


Letter F, for...., The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-30
Updated: 2001-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Letter F, for...., The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Letter F, for... by Forbes

The Letter F, for...  
By Forbes.

Rating: NC-17  
Summary: D/Sk - Sequel to 'The Letter D for Doggett'. Need to read that one first, really. But basically, this is a 'First Time For Doggett' story.  
Spoilers: Don't think so.  
Disclaimer: What a shame they're not mine. They'd have so much more fun.  
Feedback:   
Archive: Sure - if you want it, help yourself. Just let me know, please.  
Dedication: This is for all those people who couldn't bear to have me just leave well alone. You know who you are, you naughty, naughty people.

* * *

The Letter F, for...

chapter 1

One of the disadvantages of spending a large chunk of your life in the military, Doggett reflected, was that the early-morning thing was pretty much ingrained. Years of being screamed awake at the crack of sparrow-fart, had negated the need for an alarm clock in his life. The morning sunshine only had to think about touching his drapes, and he was instantly awake.

He stretched under the sheets, grunting and rubbing his eyes.

Then froze.

There was a leg next to his. A big leg.

Slowly turning his head to the side, Doggett gazed into the two big brown eyes of the man lying curled up very, very close to him.

Close enough to feel the heat from everything that wasn't touching him, close enough to detect the scent of his sleep-warmed body. Closer than anyone had been to him in longer than he cared to think about.

The memories from the night before ran howling into his bedroom, bringing close-ups and re-winds of acts he had done with, and to, the man lying in his bed.

Rigid, Doggett swallowed, watching the slide show of the evenings activities unfold in his head, shock, disbelief and embarrassment all jostling for pole position.

Not a man naturally disposed to hysterics, Doggett let his emotions rage for a moment longer, then gathered them up and squashed them into a box in his mind and slammed the lid. He hammered the top down with nails labelled 'Grow-Up', and "Deal With It, Soldier'.

He pulled a smile up from under the sheets, resisting the temptation to pull said sheet up to his chin.

"Hi."

Skinner blinked again then smiled. "Hi," he replied. A hand came out from the cotton and scratched at the side of the broken nose. "You okay?"

Well, there was a question. Doggett wondered what to say to that.

"Yeah, I'm good," his mouth answered for him, without asking permission.

Skinner grinned wider and the hand moved over to rest on Doggett's shoulder.

"Glad to hear it," he rumbled, moving his hand in little circles.

Was he okay? Doggett thought about the situation for a while, enjoying the warming sensation on his skin. He was warm, safe and well over the age of consent.

It might be weird, but it was okay.

Skinner spoke again. "I was beginning to think you'd slipped into a coma."

Doggett frowned. "Was I snorin'?"

God, he hoped not. His ex had always bitched about that.

The bald head shook. "Wouldn't have heard it over my own grunting, anyway." The hand smoothed Doggett's collar-bone. "One of the advantages of sleeping with another guy, I guess."

Doggett couldn't help a rueful smile at the truth in that. "I musta been real tired," he said.

"Hhhmm." His hand was sliding over Doggett's pecs, his eyes never moving, watching everything that Doggett knew must be flickering over his face.

He wondered if the small tickle of something awakening a little bit further south, showed in his face.

The large palm found his belly and rested there. Doggett felt the familiar creep of color in his face, and tried to forcibly relax his muscles. He could do this.

He'd done this, he reminded himself.

Brrrrriiiiiiing!

The scream of the phone made both of them jump.

"Shit!" Talk about lousy timing.

Doggett levered himself over Skinner's body to the bedside cabinet. He grabbed at the squawking phone, clumsy in his haste, knocking the receiver out of its cradle.

"Shit!" he said again as it disappeared down the side of the bed. He glared down at the curly wire. There was no way he was going to be able to reach that over Skinner's bulk.

Sighing, he started to move to get out of the bed. Then looked down as a large hand held onto his wrist.

Skinner smiled and shook his head. His other hand fished down the side of the cabinet and with a flourish, produced the errant phone. Holding it out for a second, Skinner made as if to offer it, then held it to his own ear.

Doggett's eyebrows ran up into his hair in horror.

Holy shit!

He wouldn't?

Skinner's grin deepened into something definitely wicked, and Doggett watched horrified, as the other man opened his mouth to speak.

Oh... Fuckaduck!

His heart lurching in his chest at the thought of another man answering his phone first thing in the morning, Doggett panicked. Throwing himself on top of the other man, he grabbed at the phone, his lips drawn back against his teeth, biting back a mouthful of obscenities.

Skinner pulled it out of reach, hissing with glee.

"Goddamned fuckin'..." Doggett snarled quietly, putting his hand round Skinner's wrist and squeezing.

Not very funny. Absolutely not very fuckin' funny. He glared pointedly at the man pinned to the bed. Gimme, his face said.

Skinner handed the phone over, shaking his head and laughing silently, his face telling Doggett in no uncertain terms, that he'd been had.

Bastard.

Doggett glared at him again and tried not to snatch the proffered receiver. "Yeah?" he growled into the mouthpiece, his heart still hammering away.

"Agent Doggett?' A thousand miles away, Scully's voice threw another cupful of water all over him, from face to crotch.

"What? Oh, I... Um..." He sighed. "Yeah." Beside him, Skinner chuckled away.

He scrubbed his free hand over his face. Bastard.

There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Agent Doggett?" the voice said again. "Are you alright?"

No. Most definitely not, Doggett thought, taking in deep breaths to calm himself down.

"Yes. Thank you, Agent Scully. I'm fine," he lied. "I just..."

I just spent the night in bed with our boss.

I just gave him a blow-job.

I just damned near had a heart-attack.

Doggett closed his eyes and wondered which of the above replies would cause Agent Scully to drop that baby.

"I just... Woke up," he finally told her, squeezing the bridge of his nose and lying back down on the pillow.

Another pause on the line.

"I see... I'm sorry. I hadn't realised you would still be in bed."

The color rose in his face.

In bed.

He glanced at the man next to him. Then he frowned. 'still be in bed'? What was she saying? What the hell time was it anyway?

"It's just that we need to speak with you."

Doggett leaned over and glanced at the clock on the stand. Oh shit. Half past ten. He never, ever slept this late.

"Okay..." he told her, distracted by the glowing numerals. He rubbed his hand through his hair, making it dance. "So... Talk."

Beside him, Skinner reached up and also ran his fingers through the short spikes. Doggett looked and twitched the corner of his mouth into a smile at the look on the other man's face. He was gazing at him, his face more open than Doggett would have believed possible.

Who'd have thought Mr. Hard-Ass-Assistant Director had a 'tender' face in his repertoire?

And over John Doggett, no less. The smile widened.

His hair was being combed gently, large fingers taming it, caressing his scalp. He leaned into the fingers.

He must have missed the memo regarding this particular pleasure. The fingers moved to stroke the side of his face.

This was nice.

The voice on the other end of the phone dragged his attention back from Skinner's fingers.

"We need to do this in person, Agent Doggett." There was another Scully-pause. "We're on our way over to your place, now."

"Whaddafu...!" All the blood drained out of Doggett's face. He sat upright as if shot.

The telephone spoke to him. "Agent Doggett?"

"Wha...?" He began again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Scully sounded bemused.

"Yeah... Yeah." Doggett glanced wildly around the room. Oh shit.

"See you in a while, then."

"Yeah..." Staring at the man languishing in his bed, Doggett's mind recoiled at the possibility of Mulder and Scully turning up on his doorstep.

"Okay then."

"Scully!" Doggett shouted in the receiver.

There was a pause, long enough for Doggett to pray he wouldn't hear the dial tone, and then a quiet:

"Yes?"

Thank you, thank you God, Doggett chanted.

"Um... How long... I mean, I'm not, you know..." He waved his hand up and down his own nude body, and stared at an equally naked Skinner. "Dressed," he finished feebly.

There was a ghost of a chuckle down the telephone wire. Shit, he thought. Everyone's laughing at me this morning.

"We'll stop off and get breakfast, first. Okay? Danish and coffee okay for you?"

He swallowed, wondering if it was suicide to ask her to make that twice, but instead he just nodded.

"Great. Cherry Danish?"

"You got it, Agent Doggett."

chapter 2

Carefully, Doggett handed the phone back to Skinner, who replaced it with an upturned eyebrow.

"Shit." Four or five heartbeats passed and then the enormity of the situation hit him in the guts.

"Shit!"

He leapt out of bed, heedless of his nudity, and clawed at a dresser drawer.

"Shit, fuck, damn! She's on her way!" The drawer refused to budge. "Shit!" He snatched his hand away then tried again. "She's coming over! Fuckit!" The drawer opened obligingly, and snatching up a pair of black jeans, Doggett unflapped them and began to hop about, shoving a leg down the hole.

"Him too!" he added, sending him into more of a panic. "Fuck!" Tripping over a pants leg, he stumbled backwards on the bed. "Fuck!"

"Him, who?" Skinner asked casually, not moving.

Doggett paused and turned, looking at him as if deranged. "Mulder!" He shook his head.

Who the goddamn hell, did he think?

"Oh." Skinner sat up leisurely.

"Shit-fuck-damn!" Doggett pulled his left leg out of the right pant leg and tried again, leaning back and sticking both legs in the air.

Behind him, Skinner chuckled. "You sound like the start of 'Four Weddings'," he said.

"What?" Doggett pulled at the waistband of his jeans. Damn things wouldn't play fair.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Don't tell me you haven't seen 'Four Weddings'?"

"Guess I musta missed that one."

"Everyone has seen 'Four Weddings'," Skinner argued.

Struggling with his legs, Doggett shrugged. "Uh-uh. Not me."

"Cave dweller."

"Fuck you!"

"Now, there's a thought." He leaned over and tweaked Doggett's nipple lightly. "Think we've got time?"

Doggett winced. "Goddamnit, Skinner!"

Heaving the stiff denim up his uncooperative legs, Doggett growled at life, the universe and oblivious Assistant Directors. Oh, and partners that turned up unexpectedly at the crack of...

Well, at whatever time it was. He grunted and stood to pull the pants up properly.

"Going commando, John?" Skinner asked, nodding at where Doggett's crotch was about to get zipped into Levis.

Doggett glanced down, frowned, stuffed everything out of harms' way and yanked the zip up quickly.

"At least I'm getting dressed," he waved a hand at Skinner. "Get..." He spluttered. "Just get... You know!"

"You throwing me out?" Skinner sounded amused.

"Whaddafuck d'you mean?!" Doggett held his hands up. "Mully and Sculder are..." He shook his head and rubbed his temple. "Scully and Mulder are on their way, and you're doing jackshit!"

"You think I should go?"

Nose buried in a drawer, Doggett bit down on a scream of frustration. He snatched out a white tee shirt.

"No. I think you should stay. I'll whip up eggs, and you can answer all Mulder's questions about what we got up to last night!"

Skinner laughed. "Think he'd want to know?"

Doggett paused climbing into his shirt and gave Skinner an incredulous look.

"Are you crazy?" he said. "He'd give his left nut to know all the dirty details."

"'Dirty' details?" Skinner's eyebrow raised.

Shit. Doggett bit his bottom lip. Damn.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, pulling the shirt all the way on. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Dammit, Skinner..."

"Walt."

Doggett nodded. "Walt. I mean, Mulder's a smart-ass and a wise-guy." He shrugged. "He's been ridin' me about this case since the get-go." He tipped his head. "No sense in giving him any more ammunition than need be, huh?" Please understand, Doggett thought.

"Okay. Fair enough." Skinner smiled and held out a hand. "Pull me up, then."

Doggett grinned, moved around the bed, grabbed him by the wrist and pulled.

"God!" he gasped as the A.D. came up with only a concerted effort. "You fat-ass!"

Standing naked in front of him, taller by those few inches, Skinner grabbed a handful of shirt.

"Fat-ass?"

Doggett laughed, his panic momentarily forgotten. "You bet!"

The handful of shirt shook back and forth. "Pretty cocky for a stick-insect."

"Least I'm a cute stick-insect," he replied.

Another little shake. "Meaning I'm not?"

"Nah." He reached out a pinched Skinner's cheek. "You're as cute as little puppies."

Holy shit! The words hung between them like a rainbow flag. Doggett swallowed.

Did he really just say that? Jesus.

Skinner inclined his head slightly. "Why, thank yew, Mistuh Doggett, suh," he drawled in a dreadful southern accent.

"Asshole," Doggett told him, softly, blushing, despite himself.

He would have said something else, but Skinner suddenly dipped his head and placed his mouth over his, and all thoughts of speech dribbled away between his bare feet.

Their mouths worked over each other, sliding around in wet glee. The scratch of new beards rasped loudly over the roaring in Doggett's ears. He pulled the back of Skinner's neck down and pulled him in deeper. The hand on his shirt loosened and fell away.

Giving in first, Skinner pulled his head up, to breathe heavily into Doggett's ear.

"Keep that up, Agent Doggett, and I will be forced to strip you naked, and swallow you whole."

A shiver ran through Doggett's body at both the threat and the sensation of hot breath in his sensitive ear. Oh yeah, he could take some of that.

"I told you about callin' me that," he whispered. Skinner chuckled, making him shiver all over again. "But much as I'd love to oblige you, Walt, I think we'd better save it 'til the next time."

Skinner pulled away and looked at him.

"Next time?"

Doggett stared right back. "If you'd like."

"Would you?"

He had the feeling that if he gave the word, Skinner would simply walk out of his bedroom and his private life without any hint of reproach. No hassle, no tantrums.

Thing was, all of a sudden, that wasn't what he wanted.

He wanted what Rudy had been trying to offer him, all those years ago. Something he'd been too young, too bull-headed, too fuckin' frightened to accept.

And now he was being given a second chance to have it. He hope that when he met Rudy again, the crazy sonofabitch would be able to forgive him.

Pulling in a breath, he nodded and took a step towards a strange new world.

"Sure." he grinned. "I'd like that."

"Great."

He was rewarded by a full-on Skinner-grin. The kind that used all his teeth, and made him look about 12 years old. The sight of it touched Doggett. He grinned back.

"So. You gonna get that fat-ass of yours dressed and outta my house, before half the FBI comes round for breakfast?"

Skinner laughed. "I'm gonna kick your ass if you keep calling me that, Sticky." He reached up and flicked a finger against Doggett's ear. "Or maybe I should call you..."

Doggett grabbed the hand. "Don't mention the ears, man." He bent the wrist back, gently. "Don't ever mention the ears."

"Ooh. Touchy, touchy."

Letting go, Doggett stepped away and gave the other man a rueful look. "Yeah? Well, you try goin' through life with these." He waved his hand to the side of his head. "Heard 'em all, man. Heard 'em all."

"I'll bet."

Doggett narrowed his eyes. "Gee, thanks, Skinner."

"No problem," he laughed. "So. You gonna lend this fat-ass a clean shirt, then?"

Doggett smiled. Strange, he could take a little teasing from this man. Take it and still want to hang around for some more. Who'd have thought?

"Well, I dunno." He rubbed his chin, pretending to think. "Don't know if I got anything that large. I'll hafta look."

Skinner held up a middle finger. "Look at this," he suggested.

Pulling open his closet, Doggett laughed and found a navy blue sweater. He threw it across the room.

"Try this one. Never did like it. Always hung like a dress on me."

"Gee, thanks, John."

"No problem." He stood and admired the view as Skinner pulled the sweater over his head and down his body. It pulled a little tight around the chest, but it would do.

"That's a good look for you, I think," he said grinning, indicating Skinner's naked lower half.

The other man looked down. "Yeah. Think I'll try it out at the office."

Doggett glanced at the bedside clock. "You'd better hurry up, or you'll be trying it out on the office staff."

"There's a thought." Skinner grinned and pulled on the hem. "Fresh underwear?"

Doggett rolled his eyes. "Aren't we the picky one?"

"Hey. I'm not going out without clean shorts. " He shook his head. "No way."

A pair of red boxers came sailing across the room. "Your momma teach ya that?" he asked, watching Skinner sort out front from back, then step into them.

"Uh-uh." The elastic snapped primly. "Just a little thing I have about not zipping my dick in my fly."

"You wanna live dangerously, Skinner."

Placing a little kiss on Doggett's lips, Skinner raised an eyebrow.

"I think I've got that area covered. Don't you?" he said.

Shit.

Oh, yeah, Skinman. More than covered.

Swamped.

Enveloped.

Smothered.

Any of the above.

Another shiver ran through Doggett's body. When was he gonna get used to this man's touch?

Emerging under the sound of the toilet flushing, Skinner walked back in the room, bearing his black jeans and boots. He sat on the edge of the bed and held up a bare foot.

"Socks?"

"Jesus, Skinner!" Doggett rummaged around and grabbed a pair. "You wanna go through my entire wardrobe?"

Pulling on the grey wool socks, Skinner smiled and shook his head.

"Nah. Your pants'd be way too tight, Skinny-ass." He shoved a foot in his jeans.

"By the way," he said. "As there's going to be a'next time'... I took the liberty of putting my stuff in your laundry."

Doggett felt his jaw drop just a little. He nodded, slowly. "Okaay."

"I'll pick them up next time I'm round here." Skinner stood and pulled up his pants. "Thanks." He slipped his feet into boots.

Nothing to one hundred miles an hour in one night, Doggett marvelled. Now I"m doing his laundry. Bemused, he followed as Skinner made his way down the stairs to the front door.

"So." Skinner turned and stood in front of him. "Til next time, then."

Doggett nodded. "Yeah."

Skinner just stood there. Waiting. Eventually, Doggett got the point. It was his turn to make the first move.

Okay. No problem.

Putting his hand up to cup Skinner's cheek, he lifted his chin and put his lips firmly where he wanted them to go, and kissed him.

Not bad for a relative newbie, he thought, as he felt Skinner's boner pressing up against his.

He grinned in the kiss. Not bad at all.

"Now look what you did," breathed Skinner.

"Yeah." He ground himself against the erection. "Just so's you don't forget about the next time."

"Not a chance, Agent Doggett," Skinner whispered in his ear.

The sound of the doorbell made them both jerk apart.

"Shit!" whispered Doggett, ducking down and pulling Skinner down after him by the sweater. Commando-style, they slunk away from the door.

The looked at each other. 'Mulder' mouthed Doggett.

Skinner nodded, and mouthed 'Scully'.

Shit! This was not good.

They stared at one another, like two naughty boys, caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

A slow, wicked grin spread across Skinner's face and an insane wave of hilarity washed over Doggett. He let go of Skinner and clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from erupting in giggles. They must look like two naughty boys.

The doorbell sounded again.

Fuck. He was going to bust out laughing. What the hell was wrong with him? Scandal and humiliations was standing right outside his front door, and he wanted to laugh like a loon.

Skinner tilted his chin at the kitchen. Back door?

Doggett nodded and they crept over the hardwood flooring. The bell sounded accusingly. Outside, they heard Mulder yell.

"Agent Doggett?"

The humor of the situation threatened to spill out of Doggett, he choked and snorted into his hand as he slipped the latch on the back door. He waved Skinner through. Go! His eyes said.

Skinner paused, his hand on the edge of the frame. Later, he mouthed.

Doggett nodded.

He watched the other man mime holding a phone. Phone you?

The doorbell sang out. Mulder yelled again.

"Agent Doggett? You out of bed, yet?"

Doggett nodded frantically at Skinner, trying to swallow his giggles.

Skinner leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead. And the urge to laugh disappeared.

Doggett let his hand drop down and stepped forward to crush his mouth to Skinner's, not caring a jot about the screaming doorbell, or yelling agent on his stoop.

"Phone me." he whispered to Skinner, hoping he didn't sound like a schoolgirl.

He got a grin, a nod, and then the man was gone. Down the path, and out of the gate at the bottom of the small garden.

"C'mon, Doggett! Get your ass outta bed!"

Goddamn, Mulder, he thought, making his way back to the front door. Wake up the freakin' neighbors, why don't you?

Then he remembered that it was probably nearly eleven o'clock.

Wonders would never cease.

chapter 3

He slipped the catch and flung open the door. The two agents stood side by side, staring at him, obviously pissed at being kept waiting. Doggett grinned at them.

"Mornin', Agents Muldah... Scully."

"You took your sweet time," Mulder grumbled, pushing past, not waiting for an invite.

"Good morning, Agent Doggett," Scully nodded and waited with better grace for Doggett to move aside and wave her in. "I hope you rested well."

That insane grin flickered out again. "Yes, thank you. I slept fine."

Better than you'll ever know, he added to himself, pushing the door to and following Scully's petite form into the kitchen area. Unconsciously, he glanced at the back door, suddenly sure that Skinner would still be standing there, wearing his sweater.

Only the sunshine stood on the step.

"You wanted cherry?" Scully held out a paper bag.

"Yeah, thanks." He took the offering and eagerly unwrapped it. He was suddenly starving.

"I'd have figured you for a croissant kind of guy," Mulder hooked himself over a stool and leaned his elbows on the counter.

"Oh?" Doggett dug out the pastry and sank his teeth into it without bothering with a plate.

The tangy fruit brought saliva rushing. He chewed quickly then shoved another mouthful in. "Why's that?"

Mulder grinned and wiggled his fingers out front. "You know, light crispy and sweet."

Doggett quit chewing. He stared at the other man. Was he saying what he thought he was saying?

Scully set three Starbucks cups out on the work surface. "Black, two sugars." She pushed a cup towards Doggett.

"Croissant?" he said, swallowing the contents of his mouth, his eyebrows rising.

Mulder nodded, that stupid grin still plastered on his face. "No? You don't think?"

No, he wasn't going to let this irritating little tick piss him off this morning.

"Nah. I prefer those sugary donuts - you know?" He kept his gaze on Mulder, watching his reaction. "The ones with all the pretty sprinkles on."

The grin withered and died, unsure of the terrain. "Oh," he said.

Doggett took another huge bite of his pastry, to keep from grinning. Touche, you little shit, he thought.

Scully slipped up on to a stool and sipped her coffee. She pushed the other bag towards Mulder.

"You pick," she said. "I'll take the other."

Two more bites, and the Danish disappeared. Scully's eyebrow lifted.

"That was great," he said, sighing.

"Hungry?" she asked, amused.

"You bet." He grinned at her and noisily sucked his fingers clean.

Mulder sipped his coffee. "Worked up an appetite, last night?"

Oh, but he was trying.

Trying his best to get a rise. Well, he was of a mind to oblige this morning.

"Yeah. Could say that." He looked down at his fingers again, inspecting. Then looking Mulder right in the face, began to suck them again. Slowly. Then he smiled. "Bet A.D. Skinner's starvin', too."

Mulder's coffee went down the wrong way. Scully pounded on his back.

"Breathe, Mulder," she told him impatiently.

"You okay, Muldah?" he asked, innocently.

He was rewarded with a sharp look from under Mulder's eyebrows. Bingo. He just couldn't wait to tell Skinner about Mulder's little secret crush.

He took a swig of scalding drink. "So. What brings you two to my door?" He looked at Scully. "What can't be discussed over the phone?"

"Safety." Scully sipped her coffee elegantly. Bet she never choked on her drinks, he thought.

"Safety?" Doggett looked from one agent to the other. "Whose?"

"Yours, to be precise."

"Oh?"

"He's out." Mulder had regained his voice.

Doggett shook his head. Was this another queer reference? He frowned.

"Who's out?" He looked over at Scully.

Mulder beat her to the answer. "Our friend... Or rather, your friend, Giles Stanley Banner, Mister Genital-Eater."

No way. Not after one night in the slammer. No-one made bail that fast. Especially on a deal like he'd been facing.

"You're kiddin' me, right?"

"Sorry, Agent Doggett." Mulder shook his head. "Faked a heart-attack. Did a Hannibal Lecter on the officer in charge late last night and made off."

That Danish was suddenly sitting very heavily.

"No way."

"I'm sorry." Scully put her cup down. "Mulder's right." She shot him a glance. "If a little sensationalist."

Doggett felt a belch threatening. There was no way he was gonna go through any of that shit again. No way.

He was not going to another of those godawful clubs in this millennia. Besides, no-one in their right mind would return to the same M.O. No-one in their right mind.

Yeah, right.

But he still wasn't going to play that game again.

He shrugged. "So what's this gotta do with..." A small red light went on in his brain.

Oh shit.

"He knows..." He whispered.

Scully nodded. "He knows your name. Knows you're an F.B.I. agent."

Doggett pulled a face. "So what?" He shook his head. "Why would he wanna come after me, anyway? He's more an' likely gonna run."

Mulder held his nose and honked. "Baaarrrp! Sorry. Wrong answer. Mister Gourmet has taken a shine to you, you lucky boy."

Scully sighed. "Mulder..."

"Left behind a lovely 'Dear John' letter for you." Mulder snickered at the pun.

"What?"

"Uh-huh. All over a statement pad. Lovely big writing..." His hands spread out wide. "Dear John, Let me tell you about the next time.. "

The belch crept up Doggett's throat. He lifted his hand and caught it before it came out of his mouth.. 'The next time...'

Mulder paused. "You okay, Doggett? You've gone a funny color."

Doggett could taste cherries and Skinner's kiss. He stared at the back door. Stupid.

He was vaguely aware of Scully touching his arm. "Agent Doggett? Are you ill?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm okay." He glanced at Mulder. "Go on."

"Um... well, let's just say he sort of has some stuff planned for you." He shifted in his chair, as if his pants were suddenly too tight. "Weird stuff. You know?" He glanced at Scully.

"Things that involve soft bits of your anatomy and various sharp objects. And his mouth." He coughed. "And teeth."

Professional F.B.I. agent or not, Doggett felt that any minute now, his breakfast was going to make a repeat appearance on his kitchen surfaces. He swallowed.

"He doesn't know where I live." Voice a little quieter than he'd have liked.

"Ah." Mulder squirmed again.

Doggett looked over at Scully. She stared back and then pulled a face that Doggett didn't like the look of one bit.

"Actually, he does."

Definitely coming back. He swallowed another acid burp. "How?"

Mulder shrugged his shoulders. "Had a nice chat with the police computer, before he went on his merry way."

"But that's... That's classified information!"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Scully's hand was back on his arm. "Agent Doggett? He hacked into the electoral register. Cross-referenced and..." She shrugged, much the same way Mulder had done. "Bingo."

chapter 4.

Nothin' to it, he thought, staring at the porcelain. Just keep swallowing and focussing. It really wasn't cool to throw up while he had guests sitting in his kitchen. He knew this house. Sound carried.

Another burp rattled out of him. The water at the bottom of the toilet was hypnotic.

He was out.

Closing his eyes, the flashing red light of an alley way lit up behind his eyelids, and he shuddered at the ghost of a touch along his spine. Shit.

"Agent Doggett?" Scully knocked gently on the door. "Are you alright?"

No.

Opening his eyes and watching the dark spots dance and finally fade, he ran a hand over his face.

"Yeah. Just comin'." He reached for the handle and pushed, hoping the noise would hurry Scully away from the door.

Shit. A freak loose on the streets. A freak that had taken a shine to him. A freak who knew his address. Wasn't that just peachy?

Quickly washing his hands, he stared at his reflection. Where was the grinning man that had woken up with Skinner mere hours ago? Where was that sparkle he'd seen in his eyes last night?

He sighed.

Shit.

He was reduced to hiding in his bathroom, trying not to throw up his breakfast, pretending he wasn't sick to his stomach. Pretending to himself this whole thing didn't make him feel a little off-balance. A little bit scared.

Some tough guy. He blew a breath out and pushed himself away from the sink and pulled open the door.

Agent Scully was standing with her arms folded, waiting for him.

"Better?' she asked, pointedly.

Doggett stared. She obviously expected him to deny that he'd fled into the bathroom for anything other than the most innocent of reasons. Typical man response. He gave a mental shrug. Yeah, well. Fuck typical.

"Yeah. I felt a little nauseous, but I think I'm okay, thanks."

He relished the slight drop of her jaw and the momentary look of surprise in her eyes.

"Oh... Good." She recovered herself. Pointing she indicated behind him. "Mind if I?"

He moved aside. "Sure. Make yourself at home." He stood on the top step and turned and smiled.

"Can Muldah be trusted alone in the kitchen?"

She gave a small laugh as she disappeared. "Probably not!"

Yeah, Doggett thought, jogging lightly down the stairs. He's either broken something, or is busy goin' through my personal belongings.

Long as he doesn't sniff the sheets on my bed, or go through the laundry, he thought. Dollars to sugary donuts he'd recognise Skinner's scent. The image of Mulder's nose buried in Skinner's sweaty tee shirt brought a grin to his face. Shit, it would almost be worth sorting out his coloreds in front of the man, see if he cold get a rise of his own. Almost...

"Get you more coffee, Muldah?" he asked, moving into the kitchen, making the other man jump.

"No. Thanks." Mulder put down the book he'd been flicking through. "Tales of the City?" he asked, indicating the cover.

Doggett shrugged, sitting himself on the opposite side of the counter. "I read. So?"

Mulder shook his head. "So nothing. I was just looking." No, you're just pushing, Doggett thought.

"It tell you anything about me?" Time to push back.

Mulder smiled. "Not really."

"'Spect you think I should read Marine Monthly, or Guns and Ammo." Mulder just smiled, his silence giving Doggett all the answer he needed.

Tipping his head back, he fixed the younger man with a stare. "Or maybe you think it should be

Out and Unzipped."

Mulder had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I didn't say..."

Doggett cut him off with a chop of his hand. "No. You didn't say it, Agent Muldah. But you've been leavin' hints the size of elephant turds all over the place." He leaned forward. "Just what the hell is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem, Agent Doggett."

"Yeah? Well you coulda fooled me." He sat back, sighing. The silence stretched out between them.

What were the rules of engagement? Offense is the best defence. Yeah. Doggett folded his arms.

"Do you drive everyone crazy with your innuendoes, Agent? Or am I just special?"

Mulder shrugged. His silence took Doggett over the edge of pissed off.

"Why don't you just ask?" he snapped.

Mulder shifted slightly. "Ask what?"

"If I'm queer."

A throat bobbed up and down. "It's none of my business."

"But you wanna know."

"I... That's not..." Mulder floundered.

Doggett nodded. 'No. You're right. It's none of your business."

"You were married," Mulder said quietly.

"I was."

"So that's that."

"Yeah. That's that."

"What's what?" Scully asked.

Mulder wriggled. "Nothing, Scul. Guy talk."

Mercilessly, Doggett smiled at Scully. "Muldah was just enquirin' about my sexuality, Agent Scully."

The golden eyebrow arched. "Really?" she said, slipping onto her stool.

Doggett nodded, enjoying himself. "Uh-huh."

"I... That's not what..." Mulder spluttered.

"Do you really think that's relevant to the case, Mulder?" Scully tapped her fingernail on the counter. Doggett grinned at her cool.

Mulder threw up his hands. "I'm not asking anything of the sort! I was just looking at his reading material!" He got up and paced. "Jesus!"

Scully made a dismissive motion with her hand. "Focus, Mulder. Did you talk to Skinner yet?"

Doggett was grateful he hadn't been drinking when she spoke. He swallowed dryly.

Mulder leaned on the wall. "No. Cell phone's still not switched on." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "And he lectures me about being out of touch. 'Never leave your cell phone off, Agent Mulder... Carry your pager, Agent Mulder'."

"Have you tried his land line?" Doggett hoped his voice sounded normal.

Scully shook her head. "He's not home. Already tried that." She shrugged. "Think he spent the night elsewhere. Kim said she left a message for him before six, but he wasn't picking up."

Don't blush... Don't blush... Doggett told himself, severely. For the love of God, don't blush.

"Oh," he said.

"Looks like the old man got lucky last night!" Mulder laughed.

Shit.

Doggett felt the blood creeping traitorously out of his collar.

Scully frowned. "Mulder. Don't be obnoxious. He could have been doing anything. Why must you always assume the worst?"

"Just lucky, I guess, Scully."

"Just perverse," Doggett muttered.

Mulder looked at him. "So you don't think Skinner would..."

"No," he snapped at the other man.

Oh shit. Yes, his memory told him yes, he would.

"Anyway. As soon as he hooks up, we need to talk to him about organising something for you." She looked at Doggett.

"Whadda mean?" he asked, trying to drag his memory back into the conversation, and out of his bed.

"Surveillance? Safehouse?"

Doggett shook his head. "What's the point in hiding?" To stay alive, a little voice told him. He told it to shut up. "We wanna catch this perv. So..." He held up his hands. "Let him come get me. We're the FBI for Godsake," he said with a confidence he didn't feel.

Scully shook her head. "I don't think that's wise.

"Oh, I don't know, Scully." Mulder counted off on his fingers. "We know Doggett's friend knows where he lives. We got here first. We can control the scene. Doggett's willing... Perfect."

"Mulder's right," Doggett said, wincing. Ouch, that hurt. "This is a good a place as any to set up."

The phone on the wall rang out. They all turned to look at it.

Oh shit. Doggett's guts rolled over.

That was Skinner. He just knew it. He was just the type of guy to call as soon as he got home.

He was sweet like that.

But he knew the others would be here. Surely he wouldn't phone when he knew...

Doggett's mind played back the evil grin on Skinner's face when he'd had the phone this morning... And the same grin when the front door went.

Shit.

Yeah, he would. He'd think it was hysterical to call Doggett while the other two guys were sitting in his house. Bastard.

"You going to answer that?" Mulder enquired.

"Yeah." Doggett got up very slowly and moved over to the wall, praying it would stop ringing before he got to it.

"If you hurry, you might miss it," Mulder commented dryly.

Doggett ignored him and picked up. He would kick Skinner's ass to hell and back if he was acting up.

Nah. Could be his sister. Telemarketer, even. Could be anyone. You never knew.

Here's hoping.

Picking the receiver he spoke warily.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, John." There was no mistaking that voice. Doggett opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. That deep voice spoke again. "It's me, Walt."

Shit. He felt his ears radiating his embarrassment.

Yeah, Doggett thought, rubbing his forehead. I know it's you. Thing is, do I tell the rest of the room that it's you?

Shit.

"Hi." Okay, non-specific. Play it cool.

"Miss me?" Skinner's tone was teasing.

"Kinda," Doggett replied. He glanced at the others, who were pretending not to listen to him. This was excruciating.

"Flatterer," laughed the voice. "Aren't you going to tell me how much you enjoyed last night?

Doggett pulled a face, his back to the other two. He was gonna kill Skinner. "I don't think so."

"Cause I enjoyed it." The voice went deep and rough, and Doggett felt his stomach tighten. " I enjoyed you... Very much."

Stomach tight, cock impossibly, stirring, Doggett blushed.

Shit! What was he supposed to say to that? And how the hell could his dick even entertain the thought of poking its head up with company in the house?

"Um... yeah. Thanks." God, he sounded like a moron.

Down the line, Skinner chuckled. "What's wrong, John? Cat got your tongue?"

Quick as a flash. "No. You did."

Silence down the line. Hah! Doggett crowed. Got you!

"Touche, Doggett. Well done. Performance under pressure. I'm impressed."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks."

Another laugh. "Visitors still there?"

"Oh yeah." Doggett glanced over his shoulder. Mulder was trying to pick the raisins from Scully's Danish, and getting slapped. Attention diverted.

"Listening right on in to the speaker phone."

This time the silence positively echoed. Doggett bit his lip to keep from laughing. Touche my ass!

"You still there?" he asked, wondering if the older man had fainted.

Wary voice. "Uh-huh."

Doggett grinned and took pity. "Got ya," he whispered.

Skinner growled. "You skinny-assed sack of shit!"

Behind him, Scully grumbled at Mulder. Time to wrap this up.

He cleared his throat. "Where you at?"

"My place. Where d'you think?"

"Checked your messages?"

"Not yet. Why?"

"You're wanted." Over his shoulder, he spoke to the others. "It's the Assistant Director. You wanna update him, Agent Scully?"

On the other end of the line, Skinner squeaked. "Are you nuts!"

Doggett held out the phone and put a neutral expression on his face.

"Yes please." Scully slid from the stool and moved to take the phone from Doggett. "Thanks."

Wondering if Skinner's anti-perspirant would be working at full strength right now, Doggett moved back to the counter and sat down, picking up a stray raisin and popping it in his mouth.

Mulder watched. Then tipped his head back. "What'd the Boss Man want?"

More than you'll ever know, Mulder, Doggett thought. But he just shrugged and reached for his coffee.

"Checkin' up on me. Makin' sure I'm okay this morning, I guess."

Mulder clucked. "Ah. How sweet."

"I thought it was kinda thoughtful." he replied, keeping the edge out of his voice.

Mulder shrugged. "Suppose."

"Jealous?"

Mulder shot him a look of venom. "Don't be ridiculous."

Bingo, thought Doggett. Just keep shootin' til you hit something.

The phone went into the cradle and Scully joined then, forestalling anything else that might have been shot.

"He's making calls, bringing in the covert surveillance team. Said to follow standard procedures about securing the place. He'll be here, a.s.a.p." She flapped her hand. "Usual routine.. Said to lock the back door." She smiled. "Is that a guy thing, then? That men don't lock the back door?"

Mulder shrugged. "Dunno. Never had one."

His stomach did that roll-over thing again, and Doggett knew that last shot was a slap-bang dead-on hit from Skinner to him, via Scully. Bulls eye. Bastard!

He took a long swallow of coffee, then wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Maybe. Can't remember if I locked it or not." He got up and crossed the floor.

The phone rang again, making him jump. Shit!

What the hell? Was that Skinner again? He was really pushing it, if it was. Calling to gloat. Doggett frowned and move to get it.

"Aren't we the popular one?" said Mulder.

Ignoring the comment, Doggett put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

A soft chuckle echoed down the line. "Hello, Johnny Handsome. Guess who?"

chapter 5

Doggett stood with his mouth open, phone pressed to his ear, the blood draining from his face. He knew that voice.

It slipped into his mind along with red ambulance lights and the smell of piss. Goosebumps raised along his arms.

He couldn't speak.

The voice slithered along the wire. "I missed you, John," it said. "I wanted to get to know you better."

Doggett's mouth dried up. He stood there, phone glued to his ear.

"You owe me a dance, John. You owe me a kiss."

Danish and coffee lurched.

"I wanted to put my tongue everywhere, Johnny Handsome."

Rage hit Doggett it a tidal wave, blood filling his face. "Don't you fuckin' call me that!"

Across the room, two heads whipped round.

"But you are my blue-eyed handsome man."

"You sick fuck!" Doggett yelled into the receiver, and slammed it down.

Scully reached his side. "Agent Doggett?" She touched his arm. "What is it?"

He stood, pulling air into his suddenly tight lungs, glaring at the phone as if it might reach out and lick him.

"Him," he said, eventually.

"Banner?"

Doggett nodded. God! The way his stomach was rolling, he had gotta be nurturing a ulcer the size of a truck.

"What did he say?" Scully squeezed his arm to get his attention back.

He couldn't repeat that. No way. He swallowed.

"He said I owed him."

Mulder wandered over. "What'd he call you?" he asked, casually.

Doggett glared at him.

Mulder just gazed back. "Well?"

"He ..." Doggett pressed his lips together. Shit. This was humiliating. "He called me..." He rubbed his suddenly tired eyes. "Johnny Handsome," he finished, with a grimace.

Mulder chuckled. "You made a real friend, there, Agent Doggett."

Doggett opened his mouth to tell Mulder to take a flying fuck, and the phone rang out again.

They stood looking at it.

No way. He wasn't picking that up again.

"Answer it," Mulder told him.

"No."

"Agent Doggett..." Scully's tone held a warning and a measure of sympathy. "You have to."

The phone sang out to him.

Reaching slowly, Doggett touched the receiver. Mulder's hand shot out and covered his.

"Do you have speaker phone?"

Doggett stared at him. Had he been listening when he spoke to Skinner?

"Put it on. We can all listen."

Perfectly reasonable.

Perfectly within operational procedures.

But not what Doggett wanted to do in a million years. No way he wanted these two to hear what this freak had to say to him.

On the other hand, he was even less than crazy on the idea that it could be Skinner again, calling back for a spot of phone sex.

Next to him, Scully nodded. "I agree."

The phone still rang.

Doggett stared at Mulder's hand still covering his. Long fingers, he thought absently. Clean nails.

He mentally shook himself. What the hell was he doing? He needed to concentrate.

Nodding, he shook Mulder's hand away and picked up the phone, jabbing the monitor button.

"Yeah?" he said quietly, perversely hoping to God it was Banner, that it wouldn't be Skinner.

"You shouldn't keep me waiting, Johnny," the voice hissed into the silent kitchen.

Banner.

Doggett didn't know whether to be thankful or not.

"Yeah? Tough shit."

The voice clucked. "You have a dirty, dirty mouth. Does it taste like it sounds, Johnny Handsome?"

"I said don't call me that," Doggett growled.

A dry-throated chuckle. "And what would you have me call you, precious?"

"How about Special Agent?" he snapped back, confidence returning.

"Oh, I couldn't do that." Laughter rippled along the line and out into his house. "That wouldn't sound very intimate when I sink my tongue into your body, now would it?"

Doggett reached up and scrubbed his eyes. Shit.

Scully frowned slightly, and he could feel Mulder standing right at his shoulder. Not moving at all.

He shook his head. "Never gonna happen, pal."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." Doggett stared at the wall above the phone. Shit. If only they'd have had a tap on it.

"Why is that? Are you tired, perhaps, after last night's exertions?"

Don't go there, Doggett thought. Just don't fuckin' go there.

Banner chuckled again. Obviously enjoying himself.

"Well if you are, then your dance-partner must be a better lover than I imagined. Perhaps I should watch." He groaned softly. "Oh, I'd like that."

Heat flooded Doggett's body, racing wildly to his face. Shit shit shit.

He glanced at Scully's face, vague puzzlement wandering all over it. He didn't dare look at Mulder.

"Whaddya mean?" he stammered, desperately trying to think of something to say to divert this crazy conversation.

"The big man."

All of a sudden, there wasn't enough oxygen in the room. Doggett moved the phone from his ear, he had to stop this now. He didn't want to hear any more.

Didn't want the other two to hear any more.

Scully shook her head frantically, making circling motions with her hand. Keep him talking, she was saying silently.

Doggett sighed. Goddamn. His job stank sometimes.

He made a dismissive noise in his throat. "There were lots of big men there."

"But only one, with whom you danced."

Shit!

He felt Mulder shift slightly next to him. Get off the subject, he told himself.

"Wrong, asshole! I danced with a coupla guys!" he snarled angrily. "Or maybe you weren't payin' attention?"

"Oh, I paid attention, John." The phone line sighed into Doggett's ear. "And I also paid attention to the fact that only one man had permission to kiss you."

Fuck...

All the blood that had rushed to Doggett's face, ran out, leaving behind a dull, sick headache.

He stared at the kitchen floor, not wanting to look at Scully's expression. Not wanting to turn round and confirm the look he knew would be all over Mulder's.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? What could he say?

He swallowed again.

"Is he your lover, Johnny?"

This was getting way too far outta hand. Too freakin' close to home.

"What's it gotta do with you?" He snapped.

"I want you for myself."

Doggett shook his head. "Ain't never gonna happen, pal."

"Really?

"Really."

Air sucked through teeth someplace down the phone. "I'm very disappointed."

"Get over it."

"I recall we had this conversation, last night."

"So you'll recall I blew you off, then, too."

A little chuckle. "No. But I wish you had."

Shit.

"You know what I mean," Doggett snapped, dangerously near the end of his tether.

"I do. But I am not to be disappointed." There was a long thoughtful silence. "Perhaps if the big man were out of the picture?"

"No!"

"That bothers you?"

Doggett frowned. "Course it bothers me, you sick fuck."

"Does the FBI know one of its agents is gay?"

Doggett snatched a quick look at Mulder and shook his head. "I'm not." The other agent didn't react. Doggett wondered what that meant.

"You don't think so?"

Doggett rolled his eyes. "I should know."

"So do I."

"You don' know jackshit!"

"I know what I saw."

"Oh yeah?"

A little ripple of laughter. "Indeed, Johnny. If you're not gay, then why were having such a delicious time last night?"

"Part of my job, asshole," Doggett snapped.

"Was he part of your job?"

Doggett opened his mouth, but said nothing. There wasn't anything he could think of to say that wouldn't get him in even more shit.

"Then I take it... He is your lover?"

Fuckfuckfuck.

He glanced at Scully, and she nodded slightly. Play it cool. You're supposed to be in character, remember.

Was he?

Oh god. Please forgive me, Walter, he thought.

"What if he is?"

That paper-thin chuckle was beginning to get on Doggett's tits. His fingers itched for his gun.

"I thought as much," Banner said. "One doesn't usually see a kiss of that intensity between strangers."

Doggett felt any hope of salvaging his dignity and/or reputation tickle slowly away, towards a mental picture he held of him and Skinner, wrapped around each other on a crowded dance floor.

Shit.

chapter 6.

Those dancing black spots marched across Doggett's vision again, and he closed his eyes so he couldn't see his masculine pride being crushed to death under the damning weight of those words.

God, you sure can be a son of a bitch, sometimes. He pulled in a breath. Behind him, Mulder made a little noise.

Maybe if he kept his eyes shut, he wouldn't have to see what was all over the other agents' faces.

Maybe if he had a heart-attack, he wouldn't have to explain himself.

Hope waved a little white flag from underneath the crush.

Maybe they would believe he was just acting undercover. The flag waved faster. Yeah. He could give that a go.

"It's called going undercover, asshole," he said, cracking open his eyes.

Banner laughed. "I'd say more like going down, if you'd have carried on much longer."

"Fuck you!'

"At last... we have an understanding! I shall be in touch, soon, Johnny Handsome."

And the line went dead.

Doggett took the hot receiver away from his ear and stared at it with loathing.

Above him, the kitchen clock scrunched up the seconds.

"Okay." Scully put her hand to her chin, and looked thoughtful. "So he's made contact. Confirms that you're his next target..." She looked up at Doggett. "And we know he'll call back. That gives up the advantage." She nodded to herself as she spoke.

Doggett stared. He was waiting for the questions. She had to have questions.

Shit, he had questions.

"We need a tap - and fast." Mulder pulled his cell phone out.

Doggett looked over at him. Surely he had questions? Mulder was already giving swift instructions over the phone. He had to have questions. Mulder practically breathed questions.

"Agent Doggett?" Scully was speaking to him. It took a moment to pull himself together.

"Yeah?"

She was business-like and brusque. He was grateful for that. Right now, he felt anything but professional. "We need to secure the building. Are all the upstairs windows locked?"

He nodded. He could cope if she kept things on this level.

"You have your cell?" He pointed across to the re-charger by the microwave. "Okay. Garage secure?" Again Doggett nodded.

"And the back door?"

Shit. The color came back to him in a rush. Skinner...

"Dunno," he said, and moved to lock it, hiding his face from her. He turned the key and pulled it out. "Done."

"Good. Now we just need..."

The front doorbell chimed.

Mulder held up his hand, and moved to answer it himself.

Wonder if that was Skinner? Doggett thought. He stood motionless, still holding the back door key in his hand. He realised for the first time that morning, that his feet were cold. He looked down and flexed his toes. No socks. No wonder.

Scully followed his gaze.

"Bet they're chilly," she smiled.

Doggett smiled back. Just a small one. "Yeah. A bit," he admitted.

"Go put some socks on, then." She indicated as the trace guys came through from the living room. "We'll manage without you for a few minutes."

Doggett looked at her. She stared right back, her expression kind. She was giving him the opportunity to dash upstairs and take a breather. He wondered if he looked like he needed it.

Bet he did.

"Thanks," he told her, handing over the key. Although quite what he expected her to do with it, he wasn't sure. "I will."

He sliced between the trace guys, and lurched up the stairs two at a time, ignoring Mulder's gaze. Falling into his bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind him and sank onto the edge of the bed, dropping his head in his hands, groaning softly.

He rocked back and forth.

Ohmygod...

Ohmygod...

Ohmygod...

What was he gonna say?

What were they gonna ask?

He groaned louder. What was Skinner gonna say? He'd either never speak to him again, or shoot him. The latter might be more of a blessing.

Why had he been so stupid as to think they were unobserved last night?.

Observed, okay. Observed and fuckin' critiqued.

Jesus!

Talk about having your dirty washing aired in public. He pulled a pained face and pictured Skinner's shirt, socks and underpants lying in his laundry basket. Dirty washing, indeed.

He glanced over his shoulder. The bed looked back at him in rumpled accusation.

He took a breath. Okay. Be a man. This wouldn't kill him.

Skinner might, but humiliation wouldn't.

He hoped, anyway.

Doggett pushed himself up and went to his dresser. Socks. He pulled it open and naturally, the first pair that came to hand were woollen grey ones.

Shit. He shoved them back and dug around, savagely. He was not going to wear the same socks as Skinner. Uh-huh. Not gonna happen.

Seeing a familiar flash of color underneath the black dress selection, he pulled out a pair of socks so far removed from the ones he'd given Skinner it was ridiculous. A pair his sister had given to him, one birthday. A pair he only usually wore when she came to stay.

Bright yellow, with a picture of Piglet on each one.

His ability to consume his body weight in junk food and not gain an ounce, was a standing family joke.

Doggett grinned. Perfect.

He moved back to the bed and sat down, putting one foot across his knee.

He could do this. He could bluff his way out of this goddawful humiliating mess.

An old saying scrabbled around in his head.

'Hide the truth in plain sight'. God knows where that came from, but he thought it fitted today's little atrocity pretty well.

Maybe he could get away with it.

He pulled a sock over his foot and hoped Skinner wouldn't shoot him when he heard what had been said.

There was a knock at the door.

"Agent Doggett?" Mulder opened it a sliver, and stuck that outrageous nose into the bedroom. "Are you decent?"

"I have one seriously naked foot, but apart from that, I think you're pretty safe," Doggett replied, sourly.

Mulder slunk all the rest of the way through the door.

Doggett couldn't resist wiggling his bare toes at the man. "Better cover these up. Just in case." He pulled the other sock on and put his foot down.

Mulder glanced down at his feet. "Love the fashion-statement."

Doggett grunted, "Yeah, well. Little green space aliens abducted the others."

"Ooh! Agent Doggett's sock drawer - An X-File."

Doggett pictured their boss wearing items from said drawer, and had to agree.

He looked up from his screaming yellow feet, and wondered what Mulder was doing in his bedroom.

"Yes?"

"Um... Scully sent me up to tell you..." Mulder hesitated. "He's here."

He looked at Doggett and shook his head at his expression. "Um.... No, I mean, the AD. He's here."

Wait for it, Doggett thought. The comment. Here it comes. He sat and waited.

"And?" he asked eventually, when Mulder just stood there.

Mulder shuffled, his eyes sliding away from where Doggett sat with his arms folded. He watched as the hazel orbs flickered around the bedroom, taking everything in. The photograph on the dresser, the Rockwell print, the boots lined up with military precision by the door.

Mulder shook his head. "And nothing,"

There was another pause as the eyes wandered behind Doggett, stilled, and widened. Doggett turned to look at what held Mulder entranced.

Two pillows dented. Two sides rumpled. Both sides of the covers turned down.

Shit.

Of course. Today would have to be the one and only day he forgot to make the bed with its familiar sharp corners. Wouldn't you just know it?

Not exactly irrefutable evidence, but probably listed next door to it, in most peoples minds.

Damn.

Mulder coughed and scratched his chin. "Well, like I said. He's here."

"Like you said," Doggett repeated. Somehow, all the mortification seemed to have drained out of him. Leaving behind anger in its wake.

"Yeah," Mulder nodded. He didn't seem to be in any rush to vacate the room.

Doggett sighed and unfolded his arms. Now would be as good a time as any to do this.

He jerked his chin. "What's on your mind, Agent Muldah?"

"Um... Nothing."

Doggett's forehead wrinkled in disbelief. He snorted. "Yeah, right."

Mulder looked at him, shuffled some more and pulled a face. "I just wanted to know..." He wriggled. There was no other word for it. It almost made Doggett smile.

"I just wondered... What Banner said?"

Here it comes, Doggett thought.

"About?"

"You know..." More wriggling.

"Elaborate, Agent Muldah."

"Last night."

"Uh-huh. Go on."

"Well... what he said. About the 'big man'."

"Yes?"

A huge sigh heaved out between Mulder's pouting lips. "You're not making this very easy, Doggett."

Oh, that was priceless. "And you think I should?"

Mulder sighed. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe."

"Gimme one good reason."

"Enquiring minds want to know?"

Not good enough. "Enquiring minds can fuck off."

"Ouch."

In no mood to give Mulder either an inch, or the benefit of any doubt, Doggett stood up and stepped towards the other man. Mulder stared at the floor, his foot working the carpet.

"What exactly d'you wanna know, Muldah? A blow by blow of the great time I had in that club? A detailed description of how I got my ass groped to hell and back?

How about what it feels like to get hit on by an fuckin' enormous leather-freak that won't take 'no' for an answer?"

He paused for breath, and tipped his chin aggressively towards Mulder's face.

"You gonna ask me if I like dancin' with other guys? Huh? You wanna know if I done it before? Lemme guess... You probably even wanna know what's my 'type'.

Or would you rather hear what it's like to kiss another guy?"

Bull's eye.

Mulder's head shot up too quickly to hide the expression all over his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Doggett held up his finger under his nose.

"No. I'm talkin'. You're listenin'... You got that?"

Mulder nodded, staring at the finger.

"You don't get the answer to any of those questions, y'hear?

Number one: I'm sick and tired of listening to your wise-ass homo bullshit.

Number two: You ain't got the right to ask.

Number three: It's none of your goddamned business.

And number four: It is none of your fuckin' business!"

He was shouting by the time the last reason was counted off. He hadn't meant to, but he did all the same. And damn if it didn't feel good.

In the silence that stood between them, he and Mulder stared at each other like a couple of vibrating alley cats.

All it would take was one sudden movement, one shove, and things were going turn nasty.

No. Nastier.

Doggett was pretty sure Mulder didn't have the advantage of having grown up on a mixture of dirt-farms and NY 'Kitchen stoops. The unfortunate ears had added to an interesting brew that gave Doggett the fighting temperament of a scrap-yard mutt, and a body to match.

And he would be more than happy to demonstrate his mean-streak, if that was what Mulder wanted.

The bedroom door swung open. Neither man turned to look.

"What the hell is going on?!" Skinner filled the doorway, and the silence. He looked from one agent to the other, glaring.

Mulder looked at him, then looked away. He shrugged. "Nothing."

Doggett stared at Mulder, still a hairsbreath from ripping out his throat. "Nothin'," he growled.

"Well it sure didn't sound like 'nothing'." Arms folded, his left hip thrown out belligerently, Skinner was in full AD mode.

"I'm going to see if Scully needs..." Mulder tailed off, waving a hand, and slipped out of the room, avoiding any contact with Skinner's angry form.

Doggett grunted and turned away in disgust. Pissy little shit.

Behind him, he felt Skinner move a step nearer. "John?" he spoke in a quiet voice. "You okay?"

"Fine," Doggett bit back. " Just absolutely fuckin' peachy." He stomped over to his closet and yanked the door open. Shoving a hand in, he snagged a checkered shirt from a hanger and shoved an angry arm in a sleeve. "Over-analysed, repressed asshole," he muttered.

"Yeah, you sound just fine," Skinner commented.

"I sound, pissed off," admitted Doggett, battling to get his hand through a fastened cuff.

"I noticed."

Sighing, Doggett stopped his struggle and looked up. Damn. It wasn't Skinner's fault. "I'm sorry," he said.

Skinner shrugged. "S'okay."

He winced. That didn't sound very re-assuring. "You pissed?"

"No. Just concerned." He lifted an eyebrow. "Is that allowed?"

Doggett gave him a grateful smile. "Yeah... Yeah, it is."

"You coming down?" Skinner thumbed towards the stairs.

"Yeah. Gimme a minute."

Skinner smiled. "Sure." He turned to leave, then glancing back and raising an eyebrow towards Doggett's feet, winked and grinned. "Piglet."

Standing with one arm in his shirt, and one out, Doggett laughed for the first time since breakfast.

chapter 7.

The kitchen was a fucking mess. Doggett grimaced at the cups and plates filling his sink and spreading over the counter like mould. He hadn't realised that FBI technicians were such dirty bastards. The ate takeout, drank his coffee and left their shit all over the place.

Goddamn.

He picked up a couple of plates and slid them along the surface. Sighing, he ran the faucet and squirted soap in the basin. He couldn't stand it a moment longer. This was his house, goddamnit.

Not that you'd think it, he groused to himself.

For the better part of the day, FBI people had traipsed in and out, leaving papers, wires and god knows what else behind.

He'd had FBI men in his bathroom, FBI men all over his kitchen, and an FBI man even brought goddamned take-out. His place was beginning to feel like boot-camp.

It was crazy.

There had been a nasty moment when he'd had to stand in the doorway of his bedroom, both hands on either side of the jamb, holding back the techies and their video feeds.

No way, he'd said.

But.. they'd protested.

No! he'd shouted, loud enough to bring Skinner to the foot of the stairs. Never mind anything else, ('anything else' being way down on his list of priorities,) he didn't want to try and sleep in his own bed, with a van load of Fibbies drinking coffee and discussing his sleepwear.

He'd won that one. Just.

He rolled up his checkered sleeves. He was getting tired of this whole scene real fast. He was seriously toying with the idea of sitting in the middle of the White House lawn and just wait for Banner to come get him.

He sighed, rinsing greasy take-out shit off the stack of plates.

He'd asked to go for a run. They'd said no.

He'd asked to sit in the garden. They'd said no.

He'd asked someone to shoot him. They'd just looked at him funny.

He was going very slowly stir-crazy.

And it certainly wasn't helped by the distracting presence of his boss. He'd tried desperately to act normal around him, trying not to make too much eye contact, not to stare when the man bent over or stretched up for something. He had changed back into his usual AD attire, but all Doggett could see were acres of naked golden flesh. Having him walking around in his house was more than distracting. It was tough.

God, it was tough.

It had almost been a relief when he'd gone back to the office. Doggett sighed. Almost, but not quite.

Pity it wasn't Mulder that had gone. The two of them had been circling each other round the house, like something off the Wildlife Channel. It was tempting to drop hints and make comments, to drive the other man nuts, but there were enough innate good manners left in him to make him hold his tongue.

Scully walked through from the lounge. "Need a hand?"

Doggett smiled. "Nah. You go sit, Agent Scully. I got this." He nodded to her belly. "Go take the weight off little J.Edgar."

Scully smiled. He liked when she did that.

"If you're sure?"

"I'm sure. Go."

She tipped her head. "I could get Mulder to help..."

"I don't think so." He tried not to scowl, mindful of her long relationship with the other man.

She leaned against the cabinets, folding her arms and looked sideways at him. Up to his forearms in suds, he felt absurdly vulnerable.

"What?" he asked.

Scully shook her head. "I was just wondering.."

"You and everybody else," Doggett snorted. He ran a plate under hot water.

"Me and everybody else, what?"

He stacked up another plate. "You know."

"No. I don't know."

Doggett made a rude noise. "Yeah. Pull the other one, Agent Scully."

"I'd rather just get a straight answer, if that's okay with you."

"Are you sure it's a 'straight' answer you want?"

Scully frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't patronize me, Scully."

"Agent Doggett. Am I being deliberately obtuse, or are you and I talking at odds?"

A seed of doubt sprouted."I... I thought you were asking about..." He pulled a soapy hand out of the soap and gestured to the phone. "You know. That stuff Banner..."

Scully flicked her hand. "I was going to ask why it is that you and Mulder always seem to be at each other's throats." She gave him a strange glance. "What did you think I was going to ask?"

Doggett shoved his hand back in the water. Shit. He hoped he wasn't blushing again.

"Nothin'. It doesn't matter."

"Clearly it does."

Let's not do this, Scully, he pleaded, swishing cutlery around. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just on edge."

Nodding, she agreed. "On edge, and snippy."

He looked at her and grinned apologetically. "Okay. I'm a grouch."

"No. Just a man."

"Ouch!"

She smiled. "Now we're even. So. I'll leave you in peace with your dishes." She pushed herself away from the counter. "By the way, Agent Doggett," she said, turning round to fix him with a firm stare. "What you thought I was going to ask..." She raised her eyebrows. "Is neither my style, or any of my business. Okay?"

Feeling his mouth open, Doggett stared back. Damn the woman. She always seemed able to take the wind out of him. He nodded and smiled.

"Okay."

"Okay, then."

The phone bleated for attention.

"Damn." Doggett pulled his hands out of the soap and grabbed a dishtowel. Mulder appeared in the doorway like magic.

He picked up, and braced himself. The speaker phone crackled.

"Yeah?"

"Well.. Hello, Johnny Handsome."

Doggett swallowed. Here we go again. More fun, brought to you by the Letter F... for freak.

"Hello, Banner," he said, reluctantly.

"Ah. That's sweet of you, Johnny, but I would prefer to hear you call me Giles," the voice said, echoing slightly through the silence.

Doggett swallowed spit. "Giles," he said. He had a selection of more appropriate things to call this freak, but orders were orders. And he had to keep him on the line. And if that meant making nice... So be it.

"Much more intimate, don't you think?"

"Whatever."

"So. Have you missed me, today?"

"No." He'd keep him talking, but he wasn't going to fawn.

Giles laughed. "Oh, you're a feisty one, Johnny. I shall so enjoy having you."

"In your dreams, pal."

"Quite."

The ensuing silence unnerved Doggett. He pulled at the phone wire.

"Whad'you want, Banner?" he asked, just to hear something other than the hiss of the line.

"You know what I want."

The line went dead.

"Shit!" Doggett slammed the phone down. Not long enough. Not nearly long enough.

Mulder clucked in the back of his throat. "He'll call back."

Doggett raised his eyebrows. "You think?"

"He's enjoying himself too much."

"Glad someone is."

Scully's cell phone chirped. She flicked it on. "Scully." She listened for a moment. "Thanks."

She pocketed it again. "Local. That's all they got. They need more." She shrugged, knowing Doggett already knew that.

The phone rang.

"Told you so," said Mulder, earning him a look from Doggett.

He snatched it up. "Yeah?" There was a definite snip in his voice.

"Now, now, Johnny. Be nice. You sound tense."

"You think?" Doggett snorted.

"Yes, poor baby. You need to speak to that man of yours. He needs to take better care of you."

Doggett pulled a pained face. Here we go.

"You mean the way you would?"

A little chuckle. "Oh yes, Johnny. I would be happy to tell you how I'd take care of you."

"No thanks."

"I would lavish oil, all over that lovely lean body, and trace..."

Doggett winced. "I get the picture."

Did he ever.

"Trace every opening with my..."

"Jesus!"

"Excited, Johnny?"

Doggett screwed up his eyes. "Not so's you'd notice."

"Tell me, Johnny. What's his name?"

Doggett's eyes snapped open. Shit.

What the hell? Where did that come from? Talk about left-field.

There was no way he was going there. Hell, Mulder might have his suspicions, but he had no real proof. Yet.

He looked at Scully and shrugged. What?

She just shrugged back.

Shit.

That was a fat lot of help. 

"Well?" Giles prompted. "Don't be coy, Johnny. Tell me."

"What for? He's not your type."

That laugh again. "I just want to put a name to the man that stole you from me."

"No." Not in a million years.

"Oh, do tell me, Johnny. I want to picture you screaming his name as you come."

Oh god. Blood stormed Doggett's face. Too much. This was too much. He gently replaced the receiver.

Mulder squawked. "What the hell!" He grabbed a sleeve. "Doggett!"

"He'll call back," Doggett whispered.

"We're supposed to be concentrating on length, not content!" Mulder yelled.

Scully's phone trilled. She answered it and closed it up, shaking her head, silently.

Fuck. Doggett scrubbed at his face. He felt sick again.

From nowhere, Scully's hand was on his arm. He looked down at it.

"It's okay, John. Take it easy." He met her eyes. When was the first time she'd called him that? He couldn't remember. It didn't matter. He was wiped out. Wasted.

The next round of his trial rang out from the wall.

Before he picked up, Mulder's hand shot out, halting him.

Second time he's put his hand on me, today, Doggett thought, staring at the fingers round his wrist.

"Just keep him talking," Mulder told him. "Never mind what he says. Never mind what he asks. Just. Keep. Him. On."

Easy for you to say, Doggett thought, lifting the phone. Aren't your guts being ripped out all over the kitchen floor and examined.

"What?" he said into the mouthpiece.

"Don't do that again, Johnny," Giles spoke quietly. "It was rude."

Doggett said nothing. Yes, it was rude. But he thought he was entitled, under the circumstances.

"So, where were we?" Banner perked up. "Ah, yes. You were going to tell me your friend's name."

"No I wasn't."

"Oh, Johnny. Don't be difficult."

"I don't remember it."

"That's rather rude of you, don't you think? After all, the dear man had his tongue half way down your throat last night."

Jesus. His head was going to explode.

"Shut up, Banner." he whispered, voice gone to hell, along with his guts.

The phone clucked disapprovingly. "Don't be like that. Tell me, Johnny... Did you take him home?"

He was sure he could hear an echo of that noise he'd made, as he came in Skinner's mouth. It screamed from the rumpled bed, and howled down the stairs. Yeah. Sound carried in this house.

"No..." The lie sounded dreadful.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Goodness me..." Banner laughed in surprise. "You really shouldn't tell fibs, Johnny."

There was a shitstorm coming. Doggett felt the hairs on his arms stand up in anticipation. His tightened the muscles in his belly.

"I'm..." His voice caught in his throat. "Not."

"Sure? Really, really sure?"

"Just shut the fuck up, Banner!"

Panic was crawling up his legs to grab his balls. Deep down, in the pit of his stomach, Doggett knew Banner was going to say he'd been watching his house this morning, and any second now, it was going to be broadcast to the whole of the FBI, that he'd seen Walter Skinner coming out of his backyard.

His balls cringed. He was losing it.

"So. His name?"

Oh god.

"Will it shut you up?" please, please, please...

Banner chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure it will."

Doggett swallowed. His balls had taken up residence in his throat. Shit.

"Walter," he said softly, hating himself, hating Giles. There was a dreadful taste in his mouth. He was sure he was going to puke.

chapter 8.

After listening to Banner laugh and hang up before they got their trace, Doggett took the opportunity to slink upstairs for a private moment, and re-make his bed. He really, really didn't want to look Mulder in the face after that conversation.

He flapped the sheet, laying it smoothly across his Queen-size, sighing deeply.

Talk about bolting stable doors and horses. He should have done this before Fox, Wise-Ass Mulder showed his face.

It was amazing just how many ways life found to fuck with his head, in such a short time.

Twenty four hours, and his world had not only turned inside-out, but turned a lovely shade of pink.

Or was that more of a rainbow?

He sighed and grabbed a pillow to plump. He punched it hard. Damn Giles Banner. Damn Fox Mulder. And damn... He sat down heavily, suddenly very tired. Shit.

He tossed the battered pillow back and picked up it's mate. Skinner's pillow. Doggett smiled to himself. The man sleeps there once, and suddenly it's 'his'?

He put it up to his nose and breathed in.

Yeah. Just a hint. No so much a scent, more a difference in the normal smell. He breathed deeper.

Make all this shit go away, he asked. Make it stop.

Downstairs, the phone was ringing again.

Oh, please...

"Doggett!" Mulder screamed up the stairs.

He laid the pillow down gently. Let him scream. Lying back, Doggett stretched his arms out to either side. Fuck it. His eyes slid shut.

"Doggett! Goddammit!"

The phone rang and rang. The blue eyes stared at the inside of his eyelids.

Go away.

The phone stopped. Doggett wondered idly if Banner had given up. Perhaps someone wanted to know if he needed aluminum siding. Maybe it was his baby sister, assuming he had a hot Saturday night date. He smiled. Yeah, right.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Doggett toyed with the idea of sitting up, but decided it was far too much like hard work, so he stayed where he was, in a pose of cushioned crucifixion that suited his mood perfectly.

"Doggett, for Chrissakes!" Mulder burst in, upsetting his martyrdom.. "Get your ass downstairs!"

"No. I'm contemplatin''."

"What?!"

Oh, this was fun. "Contemplatin', Agent Mulder. You know. Closed eyes, deep breaths."

"Well, you might want to contemplate this: Skinner's on the phone to Banner."

Doggett snapped upright, fast enough to make his spine crack. "What?!"

"Skinner...? Phone?... The picture clearing?"

"Shit!"

Crossing the bedroom in less than two strides, Doggett threw himself down the stairs, three at a time, coming dangerously close to killing himself.

His lumberjack shirt snagged on the stair-rail and jerked him backwards for a second. Shit! He pulled himself free and ran into the kitchen, to see Scully standing in her usual spot, eyes glued to Skinner's face.

Doggett slid across the flooring in his socked feet, arms pinwheeling.

"Wha..."

Skinner held his finger up to his mouth, shaking his head. Doggett danced from one socked foot to the other, practically vibrating with anxiety. Oh shit, oh shit...

"Yes, my name is Walter. May I ask how you know that?" Skinner was saying calmly.

Doggett bounced up and down. Behind him, Mulder entered and stood looking from Skinner to him, like a curious bird.

The voice laughed. "Johnny and I have discussed you, dear man."

An eyebrow raised. "Is that so?"

Doggett balled up his fists to keep from snatching the phone away. How much of the sorry-assed tale had Scully filled him in on? Did Skinner know about the ribbons and bows he'd had to tie them both up in?

"Oh yes..."

"Really? In what context?"

"I'm afraid that's a question you'll have to ask your lover."

There was a merest hint of a pause and Skinner's eyes flickered up and down Doggett's body. "My what?"

Banner chuckled. "Don't be bashful, Walter, it took considerable persuasion to get the information out of John."

Skinner's face never altered. Doggett was impressed. He seemed to be taking his 'outing' unusually calmly. Mind you, he thought ruefully, it probably meant he was saving the explosion until after he hung up.

Then he would pull Doggett apart, bit by bloodied bit.

Starting with his balls.

"I see," Skinner said, after a pause. "I can see I need to talk with John."

"Make the most of it."

"Meaning?"

"I intend to have him for myself."

This time the pause went on for longer. Skinner looked inquiringly at Scully, nodding towards her cell phone. She shook her head, listening to someone else. Not long enough. He nodded, his eyes seeking out Doggett again.

"And if I won't allow that?" he said.

"You have no choice."

Skinner seemed to be chewing something. Practising for when he bites my throat out, thought Doggett, uncomfortably.

"And if I want to fight for him?"

Oh god! He was the trophy bitch all over again. Doggett rolled his eyes, panic shoved aside by indignation.

Banner roared with laughter. "Oh, how wonderfully macho!" He clipped the laugh short.

"Then, Walter, I shall most likely kill you."

Skinner let the pause sit for another agonisingly long time, he glanced at his watch, then looked towards Doggett, a tiny hint of a smile on his face.

"I happen to consider him worth the risk."

Doggett's neck prickled.

Was that comment for Banner's benefit, or for his?

Or even for Mulder? The thought made Doggett's stomach drop.

Shit.

Banner sighed. "How sweet."

Scully made frantic little circling motions. A bit more, a bit longer, she mimed.

"Sweet, my ass. John Doggett is mine."

Scully tilted her head at Skinner's words, phone still glued to her ear. She raised an eyebrow at Doggett, and grinned.

Giles chuckled. "Territorial, aren't we, Walter?"

"Absolutely."

"I could see that, by the way you kissed him."

Doggett almost groaned. Oh fuck. Fuck!

Skinner's eyebrows shot up. He'd obviously not been informed about the sighting in the club.

"You think?"

"Oh yes. Very... What shall I say? Intense."

"I do my best." Skinner sounded amused.

"Obviously. But then you have a marvellously delicious subject on which to apply your best efforts."

Doggett cringed. He was never gonna live this down.

Skinner, sensing his reaction, smiled, deepening the agony.

"Don't I just?" he said.

Oh stop it... Stop it, Doggett moaned silently, the color thundering into his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Scully's smile growing wider.

Payback. That's what this was. Skinner's Revenge.

"Oh, yes." Giles' voice had softened. Doggett twisted his face up. God, put the phone down, Skinner, please.

"That being so..." Skinner ploughed on, ignoring Doggett's silent plea. "Perhaps you'd be interested in an arrangement?"

"Arrangement?"

"Something a little ..." Skinner gave Doggett a grin that filled him with trepidation. His tense stomach plummeted. Shit. That was Skinner's 'wicked' grin.

"Shall we say... Something 'adventurous'?"

"I'm intrigued. Do go on, Walter."

Scully nodded at Skinner, her fingers held inches apart.

Skinner nodded at her and spoke again. "I haven't broken him in, yet." His tongue slipped naughtily from between his teeth. "Perhaps I could arrange for you to..."

No! Doggett shook his head fast enough to rattle his brains. No no no...

Skinner winked at him.

"Watch."

Fuck.

Doggett bent his head and brought up a hand to cover his eyes. He was never gonna make it through the night. His heart was gonna give out.

Any. Second. Now.

Doggett scrubbed at itchy eyes. He wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

Forever.

The sigh Giles heaved out, echoed around the kitchen.

"That would be... Exquisite."

Scully snapped her fingers in triumph. "Got him!" she shouted. She yelled into the cell phone. "Go! All units... GO!"

There were a few blurry moments as Mulder and Skinner did the 'alright!' and 'way-to-go' things, clapped their hands and whooped, but Doggett kept his head in his hand, palm pressed into his eyes.

He couldn't look up, just yet. He wasn't sure his sense of balance would allow it.

Maybe in a week or so, he might, just possibly be able to entertain the merest concept, of looking the rest of the world in the eye.

Right now though, he'd sooner die.

chapter 9.

The slice of pizza he'd been slowly torturing lay limp and defeated in his hand. Doggett sighed and laid it to rest on the lid of the box. Strangely, his appetite, usually frighteningly voracious, had abandoned him shortly after breakfast, and was still happily vacationing somewhere in the Castro district of San Francisco.

He picked at a stray string of cheese, putting it in his mouth in a token attempt to eat. So far, he'd managed to both avoid the conversation, and making eye contact with the other three people in the room. Scully had squeezed his shoulder earlier, in an attempt at comfort, but apart from that brief touch, he'd been left pretty much alone.

And that puzzled him.

No-one seemed to be making the big deal out of everything that he thought they would. Or should.

In fact, the whole 'ignoring' thing was beginning to drive him nuts. All things considered, and sulking aside, he found to his surprise that he'd rather like the chance to explain himself.

Try a little spot of damage-limitation.

He sucked the cheese-grease from his finger and risked a glance over at the rest of the kitchen.

Scully was tackling her slice of pizza with her usual dignity and grace. No droopy points and drippy grease-stains for her. Doggett smiled to himself and wondered if her tidy eating habits were innate, or a skill she'd learned.

He looked the other way and the smile evaporated.

Mulder was laughing at something Skinner had said, looking far too fucking pleased with himself, Doggett thought. The other agent grinned widely and leaned in to say something in return, and Doggett had the nasty feeling that the topic of conversation was sitting not a million miles away, in yellow Piglet socks.

He bristled.

"Hey," he said, forgetting his sulk.

They both looked over at him. "Hey yourself," Skinner said. His gaze flickered over Doggett's abandoned pizza. "You going to eat that?"

Doggett shook his head. "Help yourself."

"Thanks..." A large familiar hand came out and snagged the slice. Pausing it in front of his mouth, Skinner grinned. Then he lowered his brows and tilted his head. "Lover."

Doggett winced as if stabbed.

"Don't. It wasn't like I had any choice."

"Oh?" A large part of the slice disappeared.

"Hey! The guy was talkin' me into a corner." He held up his hands. "What could I do?"

Skinner shoved his food to one side and shrugged. "I don't know." He turned to Mulder, swallowing. "What do you think he could have done, Agent Mulder?"

"Nothing, sir. Agent Doggett has always acted in the best interests of the case." Mulder glanced across, and Doggett imagined that the whole kissing issue from the club was unfolding in Mulder's dirty mind.

On continuous loop, no doubt.

"He should be commended for his attention to duty."

Oh, brother. That was just a little bit too near the mark.

Doggett narrowed his eyes. "Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Mulder shrugged, annoyingly. "Nothing."

"Yeah, well, sounded to me like you meant plenty."

Mulder sighed, dramatically. "I'm complimenting you, Doggett."

"On what, precisely?"

"Your dedication."

"An' where d'you file that, Muldah?" Doggett snapped. "Right beside the words 'Deviant', and 'Shirt-Lifter'?"

"No... I'd say right next door to 'Paranoid and 'Bad-Tempered'," Mulder snapped back.

"Agent Doggett," said Scully, wiping her hands on her napkin. "Relax. Agent Mulder is just trying to be nice."

Doggett's eyebrows shot up. "You think?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

"Well, pardon me for not realizing."

Scully' hands banged down on the counter. "Well, if you two juveniles would stop squabbling and sniping at each other for longer than it takes to draw breath, you might actually realize it, next time it happens!" She glared at each man in turn.

Doggett glared right back for a moment, then dropped his eyes. Wretched woman. That stare made him feel about four years old.

"Well said, Agent Scully." Skinner slapped his hands softly. "About time someone gave the pair of them a talking to."

Scully snorted angrily. "Someone needs to bang their damned heads together."

"Quite," Skinner agreed.

Doggett glanced at Mulder, who was wriggling and twisting his napkin in a perfect'naughty boy' impersonation.

Bet he gets a lot of practise at that, he thought.

He sighed. Bad tempered?

Paranoid?

Is that what Mulder thought he was?

Yeah. He supposed he was. A little.

But fuck it, he was a damn sight more than that!

Yeah. You're Skinner's lover, too... a little voice whispered from the peanut gallery in his mind.

The thought rolled around in his head for a bit, making itself comfortable.

Shit.

Yeah. I suppose I am.

I am... and Mulder wasn't. Not going to be, not ever. No way. That thought joined the first and settled down. The two thoughts made a little warm patch inside him.

He cleared his throat, and Mulder looked at him. Maybe it was time he stopped acting like a kid. He shoved his hand out in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Muldah." he said. "No hard feelings?"

Mulder looked at him and his outstretched hand as if it might lash out and punch him.

"Mulder..." Scully growled.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he took Doggett's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"See what I have to put up with?" he said, tipping his head towards the woman..

Doggett smiled. "Yeah. Tell me about it." They stood with their hands clasped for a moment longer, then Mulder let go.

"About time," Skinner said, rising out of his seat. He threw his napkin down and sighed.

"And as much as I'm happy to sit here and watch you two bonding, some of us have to go report in and be generally boss-like." He pulled his jacket from the back of the chair.

Doggett looked up at him, waiting for a glance.

"Good work, Agents. Good result."

The look didn't come.

Skinner took his trash to the bin, grabbed up a bunch of keys and stood, giving Scully a few last minute instructions over the paperwork, before moving off towards the lounge.

Doggett watched it all without hearing any of the stuff about how and where stuff should be filed and reported. He was still waiting for a look, a glance that would tell him how Skinner felt about what had happened.

The glance that would confirm that things were okay. That there were no hard feelings between them.

"Okay," Skinner said. "I'm off. Banner won't be processed until Monday, so have a restful day, tomorrow, all of you."

And still he didn't look at Doggett.

He moved away.

Doggett opened his mouth to say something to the rapidly disappearing back, but nothing happened.

He wanted to ask, what about me?

He wanted to yell, is it still okay?

He wanted to scream, don't walk away!

But he just sat in his yellow socks and watched the man that had woken up in his bed, turn his back.

"I'll see myself out." Finally, Skinner turned slightly, and glanced back into the room, giving Doggett a wild surge of hope.

It died a painful death as he saw it was Mulder's eyes that Skinner met. "Can you make sure that Reilly in Trace gets a copy of the tapes to transcripts, sometime before Christmas?"

"Sure. I'll see what I can do," Mulder laughed.

Skinner lifted his keys in salute and then was gone.

Gone.

Without acknowledgment. Without a glance. Without a smile.

Staring at the kitchen doorway, Doggett knew his mouth was hanging open, but hadn't the will to pull it shut.

He felt an insane urge to leap up and run after the other man and throw himself on him, begging to know what he was feeling.

Oh yeah. That, and the equally insane urge to cry.

Fuckin' hell!

"I suppose we'd better make a move, too." Scully picked up the remainder of the trash and balled it up. "You're probably wiped out," she said to Doggett.

More than you know, he thought, looking at a large spot of grease on the counter. It was in the shape of telephone handset, and he felt an acid burn of pizza low in his belly.

Shit.

"Yeah," he said vaguely. "I could use a shower an' an early night."

"Get yourself ready for the joys of paperwork, on Monday," Mulder added, cheerfully.

"See how many ways you can think up to write down the words 'lover' and 'Skinner' without making yourself blush!" he laughed.

"Mulder..." Scully sighed. "Give it a rest."

Doggett stared at the grease-spot.

"Yeah."

There was no anger there. There was nothing. How strange.

"Sure," Mulder said, clearly a little puzzled by the lack of reaction. "I'll give you a hand with some great metaphors."

"Thanks," Doggett replied, clearly not listening. He pushed his finger into the grease and moved it around, altering the shape.

"Mulder..." There was the sound of a slap.

"Ow!"

"Behave."

Doggett felt his hand being lifted and finger removed from the grease. A damp cloth swiped over the mess. His hand was given a going-over with the rag, too. "Go to bed, Doggett," Scully told him.

"Watch the sports channel. Have a beer. Relax." She dipped her head to look in his eyes. "Try and get some sleep. You look beat."

"Yeah," Doggett agreed. He felt beat.

Never mind beat, he felt like he'd been run over by a large family sedan. Run over and reversed on, a few times.

He sighed. "I will."

"Good," she said, satisfied. "Now... We'll leave you in peace." She stood up and picked up her phone. "Come on, Mulder. Time to go. And I'm driving."

"Hey! What happened about taking turns?"

Scully snorted, derisively. "With you're behaviour? I don't think so!" She moved to the lounge.

"Goodnight, Agent Doggett. Sleep well."

Mulder trailed after her, whining. "Scully... It was my turn!"

"Yes, Mulder. It was." She turned and looked at him. "And now it isn't. Say 'goodnight' to Agent Doggett."

Mulder grumbled and pouted. A sight which might have warmed Doggett's heart, had it not have been lying on his kitchen floor, having been ripped out and stepped on.

"Goodnight Doggett," Mulder muttered, with exceedingly bad grace.

"G' night, Muldah," Doggett replied tonelessly. "Agent Scully."

The front door slammed, the noise echoing in the silent house.

Silent, empty house.

chapter 10.

Standing damply at the foot of his neat bed, after enduring a scalding shower, Doggett picked up the discarded checkered shirt. He stared at it hanging in his hand, as limply as he felt.

He held it and stared in horrified realisation. A lumberjack shirt.

He had been unshaven, wearing a white tee shirt, and a fuckin' lumberjack shirt.

Oh, that had been an outstandingly inspired choice. How very Village People.

Might just as well have minced downstairs bare-chested, in his old dress uniform..

What had he been thinking?

He threw the shirt on the floor. He didn't think he'd ever be able to wear it again.

Turning, he sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hands on his knees. What a shitty, shambolic, utterly fucked-up day. His emotions had been up and down like a freakin' bride's dress, and he felt as useful as old elastic. Shrivelled grey and limp.

Narrow escapes, lurching scares and heart-stopping revelations.

It was enough to make anyone weep.

He pulled in a lurching breath.

No, goddammit! He wasn't gonna do that.

He was too fuckin' old to be thinkin' of doing that. Swallowing, he rubbed his hands up and down his bare legs.

What the hell was the matter with him? Behaving like a fuckin' schoolgirl... He was a grown man, knockin' on the wrong side of forty's door, for Chrissakes. Not some snivelling prom date that just gotten dumped.

He balled his fists. He needed to get a grip. Suck it up, soldier!

Pulling a pained face, Doggett put his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Shit... Wrong analogy.

Didn't need to think about suckin' anything, right now.

Maybe he'd be able to put the whole thing in perspective one day, but at the moment, his ego, masculinity and pride felt just too fuckin' battered and bruised to analyse jack shit.

The pinching felt good, so he did it a bit longer and harder. The flare of pain took his mind off the pain in his guts. What little pizza he'd forced down was burning a hole through him. The near whole carton of milk he'd downed, didn't seem to be helping.

"You really should lock your front door, John. Anyone could walk in."

Doggett opened his eyes, just a slit. No way.

The eyes came all the way open. Black dress pants stood in front of him.

He stood up fast and stared.

Shit. Skinner.

Smiling Skinner.

Skinner standing in his bedroom.

Something lurched inside Doggett's chest, and he yelped, throwing himself forward to wrap his arms around the bigger man, completely unself-consciously. He pulled tight, squeezing as hard as he could.

That familiar rumble of a laugh bubbled up. "Woah!

"Shit, Skinner!" Doggett mumbled into the base of his neck where he'd buried his nose. "Whaddafuck are you tryin' to do to me?"

"Hey..." Strong arms went around Doggett's back. "What's up?"

He didn't answer. He had his teeth gripped together too tightly.

Skinner just stood there, allowing him to just stand there, rubbing small circles over his back.

"Hey..." he said again. "Talk to me."

Turning his head, Skinner placed a gentle kiss in the crook of Doggett's neck.

The air sighing out through tight lips, Doggett released his grip, and pulled away, suddenly embarrassed at his reaction.

"Nah... S'okay," he said, hoping his expression didn't look as shitty as it felt.

Skinner frowned at him. "Yeah, I can see that." A large hand went around the back of Doggett's neck. "Talk to me." He shook the neck gently.

"I..." Doggett swallowed and tried again. "I thought you were mad at me."

Oh fuck... That sounded like he was whining.

He deepened his voice and frowned. "About sayin' those things. Y'know?"

He pulled away and moved around to the side of the bed, distancing himself from the other man, not quite knowing what to do with himself. He shuffled from one foot to the other, and tried to shove his hands into his pockets, belatedly remembering he was in his sleep shorts and an old USMC tee.

Skinner stared at him, his face a picture of amusement.

"You stupid asshole," he said affectionately. "Like I could care less about that."

Doggett frowned. "Even though everyone heard?"

"Even though." Skinner shrugged and moved towards him. "So what? We were undercover, in character, doing our job."

"A bit too enthusiastically..."

Skinner cut him off with a gesture. "Whatever. They can't touch us for it. Or prove a thing"

Doggett was doubtful. "You think?"

"I know." Reaching out, Skinner traced a finger down the side of Doggett's face, and into the neck of his tee shirt.

"You're the boss," Doggett grinned.

"Better believe it, Big Dog."

"My baby sister calls me that."

"Oops! Better not, then."

He shrugged. "No. It's okay. Kinda nice."

The finger tugged him forward, and Doggett stepped up, standing almost nose to nose to the bigger man. Another hand came up to lay on Doggett's chest.

"Now then... Big Dog." He tugged a little more, and bumped their groins together.

"Why don't you say hello properly?"

There was a sudden flash of lust in Doggett's belly, extinguishing the pizza burn, and he grinned, leaning that little bit more to put his lips near Skinner's.

"Sure thing, boss man."

"Uh-huh. Walt."

"Walt." Doggett said the name against Skinner's lips, parting them and running his tongue along the edge. Then, in a satisfying swoop of spit, he slipped right on in, past teeth, into glorious warmth.

Doggett felt the other man's groan softly run down his throat, and relished a surge of excitement. He loved that he had this effect on Skinner. A large hand was digging around in his short, shower-damp hair, scratching his scalp and pulling him close.

Oh yeah.

They stood wrapped around each other, making little noises, taking turns at being in charge.

Eventually, Skinner licked his way out of Doggett's mouth.

"Time-out," he said with a satisfyingly shaky voice. "I need to breathe."

"Why?" asked Doggett, running his tongue up Skinner's neck and into an ear. He bit down gently on the lobe.

"Have you read the statistics on heart-attacks in men of my age?"

Doggett licked his way back down the neck and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

"Fuck... You're not much older than me."

"Old enough." Skinner pulled his head away. "Quit."

Doggett stared at him. "No."

Skinner stared back. "No?"

"No."

Putting his hands to Skinner's open necked shirt, Doggett began to undo the buttons, one by one, still keeping Skinner's eyes in his gaze. Downward, over his belly, until with a tug, the shirttails came out of Skinner's pants and hung to the side.

"No." Doggett confirmed.

This time, the hands went to the black leather belt around Skinner's waist. He tugged it undone, still staring into brown eyes that had gone large and surprised.

Hook, button and then zip, all surrendered to Doggett's fingers.

"Doggett?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

Doggett ran his hands down Skinner's chest, through the hair, and down to the elastic of the red shorts. He took his time answering, relishing the feel of the hard body under his hands, the reality of the firm muscle and tanned skin. He grinned, suddenly pleased with himself beyond all reason.

"I am now," he told Skinner, treating the man to one of his lovely lop-sided grins.

And then he dropped to his knees, tugging both the shorts and pants after him.

Skinner sucked in a shocked breath.

"Christ!"

chapter 11.

He did much better, this time.

Skinner didn't fall out of his mouth, and he kept everything right down where it was supposed to go.

All in all, pretty damned impressive.

And appreciated, too, judging by the noise Skinner made when he came. Good job the house was empty, he thought, with a man that howled like.

Mind you, he thought rubbing a glowing ear, he could live without the way Skinner pulled appreciatively on these, while he yelled. Doggett-ears didn't need any more help coming away from his head.

But it was rather satisfying to have someone scream your name like that. Showed sincere appreciation.

Doggett looked at the man lying next to him on the bed, all sprawled out, pants round his ankles, head back, eyes shut, and he grinned broadly.

Not bad, John Doggett, he thought. You wiped out the boss.

He got up quietly and jogged lightly down to the kitchen. Cracking open the fridge he grabbed two bottles, a handful of cherry tomatoes and a chunk of Sonoma Jack cheese. Clutching his hoard, he took the stairs, two at a time.

A little light snack, and then time for round two.

Skinner was attempting to sit up when he got back into the bedroom.

"Help me up, you animal," he said.

Doggett dumped the food and held out his hand.

"Up you come, fat-ass."

"God..." Skinner said, weakly, pulling on the outstretched hand. "When I said, 'say hello properly', I didn't have that in mind."

"Get over it," Doggett replied, handing him a bottle of Guinness and climbing up beside him.

Skinner looked at it. "What the hell...?"

"Shut up and drink it," Doggett took a long pull from his bottle and wiped his mouth on his arm. "You need to get your strength up."

"I don't think anything of mine will be getting up in the near future," Skinner complained, taking a swig.

"We'll see about that," Doggett grinned. He reached over and plucked a couple of tomatoes from the bedside. "Here." One disappeared between Skinner's lips and he threw the other into his own.

"Hey!"

"Stop complaining and eat."

"What are you up to, John Doggett?" Skinner asked, maneouvering the fruit around his mouth.

He watched warily as Doggett took a bite of cheese and then fed him the rest.

"Just looking after my interests."

"And they would including killing me?"

Doggett laughed, swallowing his beer. "Nah. You are my interest." He waggled his eyebrows. "And I'm just making sure you're fed, watered and ready for the next part of the evening."

"That would be...?"

Doggett grinned. "Me."

Skinner took a long drink from his bottle to wash the spicy cheese down and gave the man on the edge of the bed a hard stare.

"Okay. You have my attention. Go on."

Another tomato popped into Doggett's mouth. He bit down, relishing the sweet juice, not surprisingly hungry, considering what he hadn't eaten that day.

"Well. I figured that unless I'm mistaken, you made me an offer yesterday..."

He felt giddy, over-excited and not a little reckless. It was either the lack of food or the presence of this man in his bedroom. But he didn't care which it was, he was just going with it.

He grinned widely again.

"I'm just letting you know that, yeah. I'm interested." He shrugged. "If the offer still stands."

He reached over and grabbed another tomato.

Snake-fast, a hand grabbed his wrist as it crossed to the cabinet.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Skinner asked, frowning.

"And what do you think I'm saying?"

Swigging his bottle with his free hand, Doggett swallowed the bitter beer, enjoying both the slippery feel of the alcohol, and the delicious look of anticipation on Skinner's face.

He watched in delight, as his captive hand was brought slowly up to Skinner's mouth and the fingers holding the tomato slid between his lips.

The sensation travelled straight to his already straining cock.

Hot mouth on cold skin.

Skinner's tongue gently stole the fruit from him, bringing moisture to the tip of Doggett's fingers, and his dick. Unconsciously, his own tongue came out and wet his lips.

"I think..." began Skinner, chewing carefully. "That you ought to be very careful, and very sure of what you ask for, John Doggett."

"Yeah?"

Skinner nodded, his brown eyes almost black in the evening light.

"And why's that, Assistant Director?"

"Because I don't think I shall be able to stop, once I have started to give you what I think you're asking for."

The side of Doggett's mouth curved upwards in a wicked grin of his own.

"Good."

The eyes darkened impossibly in dim light. "You mean that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Sure?"

Sighing, Doggett rolled his eyes. "Do I gotta spell it out for you?"

"Maybe."

Taking his weight on one elbow, Doggett leaned in and put his lips to Skinners ear.

Slowly, he ran his tongue along the edges, breathed in the clean sharp smell of the other man, then released the breath, spelling it out.

"Just fuck me, Skinner."

chapter 12.

It must have been the quickest Doggett had ever seen the big man move.

He stripped off his clothes, pulled Doggett to his feet and relieved him of his sleepwear and laid him back onto the bed, before he even had time to think about what he'd said.

Maybe that was a good thing, he thought, as the other man knelt on the bed astride him, running large hands from his throat to his crotch.

No time to think, no time to change his mind. Not that he wanted to. Skinner's touch was languid and sensuous. Altogether quite wonderful.

And much to his surprise, it didn't tickle. So he arched his back and enjoyed the unusual sensation of being stroked into a groaning heap.

Skinner was making little grunts of appreciation as he attended to the complete seduction and surrender of John Doggett.

His nails skimmed his ribs.

Now, that did tickle. Doggett chuckled.

"Something funny?"

"Tickles."

"Yeah. I know."

"Not very erotic, Skinner."

"Oh I don't know. I like to hear you giggle."

Doggett held up a middle finger.

"Men don't giggle."

"Now, that's not very nice. Not when I'm about to do this."

He ducked his head down and swallowed Doggett, much as he had threatened to that morning.

The Big Dog yelped.

Top to bottom, up and down, Skinner played him like an expert.

In time, he allowed Doggett to slip from his mouth. "Gonna behave yourself?" he asked.

Doggett nodded, panting. "Oh yeah..."

"Good Dog," Skinner said, and did it again before Doggett had a chance to comment about that.

He was very good at this, Doggett thought in a corner of his mind. And any second now... Any second now, he was gonna...

Skinner let go again, and a groan bled out of Doggett. He screwed up his face.

"Jesus, Skinner!"

"What?"

"You know damn well..."

Skinner grinned. Yeah," His hand cupped Doggett's straining dick. "I do."

Pushing his hips up into the warm hand, Doggett groaned in frustration.

"Ah-ah," Skinner told him. He reached over to the bedside cabinet and grabbed his beer.

Propped on an elbow, he took a large mouthful and winked at Doggett.

Then his head went south to ease the hot flesh into a mouth full of freezing cold Guinness.

"Eeyoww!!" Doggett sat partway up, his face rigid. "Fuckin' hell!"

Skinner slowly swallowed the beer down, the icy shock of the alcohol and the warmth of his lips an outrageous combination that had Doggett gasping and panting, unsure as to whether he wanted to piss or come.

"Christ...oh christ!"

Skinner looked up. "You like?"

Doggett ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Yeah... No... Fuck! I don' know!"

The other man laughed, wiping his mouth on his bare arm.

"Jesus, Skinner. Where'd you learn that?"

"State secret, my man." He kissed Doggett's belly. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"You keep that up, I'm gonna expire, anyway," Doggett complained, lying back down.

"Not until I've finished with you," Skinner told him, and sat back on his heels.

He stared at Doggett, looking deep into his blue eyes.

Doggett shifted. "What?"

"Do you trust me?"

He swallowed involuntarily. "Yeah. 'Course."

Skinner nodded. "Okay." He pointed to the pillow next to his head. "Gimme that."

"Please?" Doggett smirked.

"Now..." Skinner replied, clicking his fingers.

"My. Aren't we the butch one, tonight?" Doggett teased, throwing him the pillow.

"You bring it out of me," Skinner told him, getting up off Doggett's legs. "Put that under your skinny hips." He paused, part way off the bed. "Please."

Doggett obediently shoved the pillow under his ass. He wriggled to get comfortable and looked over to Skinner, who was rooting around in his pants pocket. "Why?" he asked, bemused by the request.

"Cause I said," Skinner told him. "Ah-hah!" he exclaimed, triumphantly throwing his pants back on the floor.

"Whassat?"

"Just stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, stuff." Skinner climbed back on the bed and sat next to Doggett.

"Do I get to know what 'stuff' is?" Doggett asked, craning to see what was on the duvet.

Skinner grinned. "All in good time, Big Dog."

He lay down beside him, one hand on Doggett's hip, the other propping up his head. "Now. What I want from you is utter relaxation."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good. Shut your eyes."

Doggett obeyed and heaved a breath. "Okay. Relaxed."

Skinner laughed. "Not yet, but you will be."

The next sensation was a kiss, as Skinner leaned over and applied himself to Doggett's mouth. Further south, a hand gently wandered around, fondling, stroking and helping the muscles under it to relax.

To Doggett's surprise, the hand on his skin felt... Strange. Not wet, but very nearly. Glossy, silky. Must be some kind of oil, or somethin'. Doggett relaxed. That musta been the 'stuff'.

Whatever it was, it sure felt good.

Doggett moaned his appreciation and opened his mouth and arching his hips up.

Very nice, he thought, tasting Guinness and wet skin as Skinner's mouth and oiled hand diligently reduced his body to limp spaghetti.

"Yeah," he breathed, turning his head to get better access.

"Mmmmm," Skinner replied, busy.

The kiss was different to the one they shared earlier. Less urgent, more sensuous.

Different, but great, all the same. Doggett felt the tension of the day slipping away from him.

The kiss went on for a long time, neither man having to stop to breathe, they managed easily between the long wet tastes of each other. Skinner's other hand stroked through his hair.

The north and south erotic attention was exquisite.

Skinner's mouth moved away slightly. "Open your legs for me," he whispered.

Doggett obeyed, eyes still shut, and was rewarded by a long gentle caress down the centre of his balls over his perineum.

He groaned.

"Good?"

"Uh-huh." He opened his legs wider, encouraging better access.

At the other end, Skinner went back to kissing him.

Bliss, Doggett thought. Utter and complete fuckin' bliss. His dick was rigid with approval.

The strong fingers stroked further down, and Doggett surprised himself by spreading himself even more to allow Skinner to caress him intimately.

Wow, he thought. Who'd have thought?

And then he felt a finger slip into his body.

"Shit!" Blue eyes opened in surprise.

Okay... he thought. Not totally unexpected, considering what he'd told Skinner to do, but jumpy, none the less.

"Relax," Skinner told him, dragging his tongue over his lips.

"Tryin' to." Doggett blinked, taking in a deep breath.

"That's right, take another breath."

He did as he was told and to his surprise, it felt okay.

No. More than okay. It felt good, without the resistance of his muscles. Skinner;'s finger moved in and out, gently.

"Weird," Doggett muttered.

"You bet."

The oil, or whatever Skinner had on his hand made his fingers glide, most enjoyably.

"Hhmm. Good," Doggett amended, feeling his hips rising on their own, to meet the sliding motion.

"I know."

Turning his head for another kiss, Doggett grinned inside. Oh yeah...

A moment later, his eyes popped open again as another finger wormed its way into him.

"Shit!"

"So you keep saying," Skinner said, dryly.

Doggett looked at him. "Sorry."

"No problem." He smiled. "But you might want to vary your expletives, or I'll get bored."

"Yeah? How about 'fuck you'?"

"Rather fuck you, actually."

Doggett grinned, pleased that he hadn't blushed this time. "Be my guest," he said, in the spirit of the evening.

"Way ahead of you," Skinner said, and moved his buried fingers around, stretching him..

"Sh..." Doggett glanced over. "Bastard!" he amended.

Skinner laughed. "Better." He bent his head, taking Doggett's mind off the burn of penetration, with a deep kiss.

Distracted and intrigued by teeth and tongues, Doggett's body responded to stimulation at both ends. It moved of its own accord, pushing up on Skinner's fingers, and huffing his breath out into the kiss.

Minutes later, his body let him know that enough was enough by giving him a familiar signal in his belly. As Skinner's fingers moved in and out slightly, the signal developed into an all-out warning.

Doggett pulled his mouth away.

"I'm gonna come..." he warned, hips heaving.

"No. You'll wait for me."

Jerking his hips up, Doggett winced. "Might not be an option..."

"Make it one," Skinner told him, sternly.

The feeling was pulling his balls tight. "God..."

"Don't come!"

"Tryin'..." Doggett gasped.

Skinner stilled his hand, and relief swept through Doggett's body. He pulled in several deep breaths to calm his heartbeat. "Jesus!" he gasped.

"Good work, Marine," Skinner said gently, rewarding him with a kiss.

A light glow of perspiration had broken out over Doggett's skin. Shit! That had been a near thing.

Skinner kissed his forehead, cheek and neck.

"Well done," he said, hands still. Doggett's body contracted around the intrusion.

"Yeah," he gasped, shaking his head. "Can't take much more of that."

Leaning down to bite his nipple, Skinner withdrew his fingers at the same time, and Doggett yelped.

Skinner grinned. "Oh yeah. You can."

Doggett groaned, frustration crawling through his body, his heart pounding, his ass complaining of both being entered, and then abandoned.

"Goddammit, Skinner," he moaned. "You're a fuckin' sadist!"

Sitting up, Skinner reached behind him. "Quit your bitching, Doggett."

The sound of a ripped package brought Doggett's eyes open.

Ah, the condom. He frowned. That had slipped his mind.

Skinner looked over at him, while rolling said object over his dick.

"What?"

Doggett shook his head. "Nothin'. Just I'd forgotten about that," he admitted, pointing.

Skinner looked down. "The rubber? Or the dick?"

Laughing, Doggett lay back down. "The rubber, shithead."

"Horny guy's best friend," Skinner smiled.

"Haven't had any horny guys, before, so I wouldn't know."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Skinner's finger poked his groin, making him jump.

"Hysterical, I know." Doggett said, holding out a hand. "Now, shuddup, and kiss me."

"Bossy for a bottom, aren't you?"

"A what?"

Skinner laughed. "Nothing, Piglet."

It was a bit awkward, kissing in the middle of a laugh. So Doggett tried again, with more success.

"That was nice," Skinner told him when they broke apart.

"I do my best," Doggett replied.

Skinner lay on top of him, looking at his face. Doggett wondered what was going through the other man's mind. He knew what was going through his.

Doggett bumped his hips up, reminding them both of what lay between them.

"Hey. Forget somethin'?"

Skinner smiled. "On the contrary. I was just thinking of that very thing."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Skinner put his hand under Doggett's leg. "Lift up," he said.

Doggett lifted.

"And the other one."

Again, Doggett obeyed.

"I feel stupid," he said, frowning. He was reminded of frogs on lab tables.

"Well, you look fine," Skinner replied, positioning himself between the bent knees. He grinned.

"Good enough to eat, in fact."

"Yeah, yeah," Doggett pulled a face. "You put my dick anywhere near your mouth, an' some fat lady is gonna sing, baby."

Skinner laughed. "Well, we don't want that, now do we?" A finger traced down Doggett's balls.

"I have something better in mind."

Okay, enough was enough. His dick was going to explode if he didn't get to come soon.

Doggett stared him in the eye. "Then get on with it."

A rush of something that looked very much like lust, washed over Skinner's face, and he reached to his side to grab a small bottle.

"Oh, I will, don't you worry."

Doggett peered as Skinner pumped out a clear gel and began to slowly spread it up and down his dick. It shone and glistened.

"What's that?"

"It's called Maximus."

Doggett laughed. "Get outta here!"

Skinner smiled. "No. Really. Got it from a place on the web."

"You're kiddin' me?"

"Uh-uh. Good stuff."

"Ah. 'Stuff'."

Skinner nodded, and wiped his gleaming fingers between Doggett's butt-cheeks. "See?"

Doggett nodded, the smooth glide of the other man's hand making his hips jerk.

"Yeah."

Tossing the bottle on the bed, Skinner lowered himself down, putting one hand by Doggett's side, and the other between his splayed legs.

"So... Be still, John Doggett."

chapter 13.

John Doggett was still.

Well, as still as he could be with Skinner running his fingers over his balls and ass.

A slippery finger slid back slowly inside Doggett, and he grunted gently at the sensation.

"Relax."

Swallowing, Doggett nodded. Okay. Yeah, relax.

He took a breath, like before, and Skinner nodded.

"That's right."

Doggett closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on not tightening everything up. Amazing what difference a bit of Maximus and limp muscles made.

Skinner sank deeper and moved around.

Doggett sighed. That did feel good.

The finger slid out languidly, and after a moment, another one joined it like before. The feeling intensified.

"Careful..." Doggett warned. "I'm way ahead of you."

"Don't bet on it," Skinner growled.

Doggett grinned. Then groaned, as Skinner turned his fingers.

"God..."

He could feel that low ache in the pit of his belly building up again, and he tilted his hips, looking for more.

The ache died, disappointingly, when Skinner pulled his hand away.

Goddammit! Doggett opened his mouth to give Skinner a piece of his mind about this teasing shit, then stopped, mid gape, as he felt something much larger nudging at him.

His mouth snapped shut. Oh shit.

"It's okay," Skinner told him.

He nodded. Trust. It was all a matter of trust.

He could feel Skinner pressing gently, but firmly against him, his hand massaging his butt-cheek.

"Take a breath," Skinner said. "Relax and breathe in."

He closed his eyes and did as he was told, breathing deeply through his mouth.

The pushing increased. Uh-uh. This wasn't going to work. No way. Nothing that big could go anyplace that small.

There was a sudden burn, a stinging pain that brought his eyes flying open, and a gasp to his lips.

With breath trapped in his lungs, Doggett whined at the back of his throat in panic.

"Oh...!"

"Breathe, John." Skinner said, gently. "Take another breath. It's okay... I promise you."

"Feels..." Doggett gasped. "Goddamn!" He pulled a face. This was a whole hell of a lot different from a fuckin' finger!

"John..." Doggett dragged his gaze up. "Relax yourself."

Easier said than done.

Doggett made a Herculean effort to let go of the lungful of panicky air he'd snatched, then dragged in another.

Skinner perched, perfectly still, not moving either way, letting Doggett get used to him.

"Feels like..." He swallowed. Felt like what??

It felt so far outside his entire sexual experience, that it was coming back the other way. Coming in the fuckin' back door, Doggett thought with grim humor, his ass trying to squeeze said door shut in protest.

Fuck! He we gonna need surgery to get over this. And yet...

The burn was fading.

He breathed again. Yeah. Definitely fading.

"Better," he gasped out. He looked up at Skinner again. The man was grinning down at him. Well, he couldn't see what was so very fuckin' funny, if you asked him.

"What?" he demanded.

"Feel good, yet?"

Doggett shook his head, frowning. "Not yet." he grimaced, and tried not to squirm. "You reckon it's supposed to?" He felt pinned like a bug on a wall.

Skinner laughed. "Just you wait."

Doggett felt his ass throbbing, tightening around the intrusion.

"Well, I might just split in two, while I'm fuckin' waitin'," he grumbled, pissed off that Skinner found this even remotely amusing.

"Stop complaining."

Doggett twisted his face in annoyance at being told off, then stilled as he felt a change.

Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, Skinner was moving forward, sliding in.

"Oh," he said, surprised.

It didn't hurt.

At all.

In fact... His eyes widened.

It felt almost... Good.

"Okay?" Skinner asked him, his hips resting on Doggett's, both hands keeping his weight off.

"Yeah..." Doggett quickly took stock of his body. And was pleasantly surprised to find that he was okay. Stretched to capacity, and very nearly split in two, but all that considered, okay.

"Okay then." Skinner lowered himself down until he was on his elbows and grinned at the man underneath him.

"So. Think you can stand a little more?"

Doggett grinned back. He didn't feel ripped apart anymore. No. He felt more like opened up, turned on, and deliciously wicked. Even with his legs flung apart with Skinner's hips forcing them almost to breaking point, he could feel a snake of desire uncoiling in his belly.

"Go for it..." He reached between them and pinched Skinner's nipples. "Fat-ass."

"Oh, you've gone and done it now, Doggett."

Skinner began to pull his hips up slowly, and then he stopped and pushed back, even further in than before.

"God!" Doggett heard himself say, over the noise of Skinner's grunt of satisfaction.

And then he was doing it again.

And again, over and over, before Doggett had time to sort out one sensation from the other.

His legs trembled.

Skinner was hot slippy and huge.

His ass went goose-bumpy.

Doggett concentrated on taking deep breaths, and not tensing up. Trying to sort out the riot of sensations that were charging up and down his body, from his ass to his brain, via his cock.

That shimmer of perspiration had evolved into a light sheen of sweat. He could feel his armpits prickling, and Skinner's movements were making the rest of his flesh into goose-bumps.

Feeling the crush of the other man's body weight, Doggett bent his legs up a bit more, pulling his knees back, and immediately felt Skinner slide much deeper.

"Oh..."

Doggett's body seemed to open up and welcome the other man's dick inside, all the way through to his backbone.

They both groaned.

Then grinned at each other.

"Good?" panted Skinner.

Doggett didn't bother to reply, just reached up and cupped the back of Skinner's neck.

"Kiss me," he growled.

Dipping down on trembling arms, Skinner obliged, his own damp skin sliding over Doggett's where they were joined at the mouth. The kiss was messy and wet, neither having much control over where tongues and lips went. But it was all the more erotic for that.

Doggett moved his legs, wrapping them around Skinner's waist, hooking his ankles together.

The sensation of trapping Skinner's hot, hard body between his legs made his cock roar and strain with approval.

Biting, furiously sucking, Doggett slid his tongue in and out of Skinner's mouth, just the way the other man was slipping in and out of his body.

"Oh god..." Skinner's movements were getting erratic. He was plunging back on the downstroke without the finesse that he had previously demonstrated. Doggett broke the kiss off and pushed his hips up to meet him.

"Oh yeah..."

The slap of damp skin on damp skin smacked around the bedroom as they slammed their bodies together, wafting the heat from their bodies in waves of hot musk.

Squashed between them, Doggett's cock throbbed in time with the press of Skinner's body, moisture glistening on his belly. The scratch of the hair on Skinner's stomach prickled wonderfully on the tender skin. But needing more, Doggett reached down to touch himself.

"No. Let me..." Skinner put his hand between them and wrapped it around the hard cock.

The sensation dragged a noise from somewhere deep out of Doggett, and he let it out, unashamed.

"Yeah," Skinner agreed, moving his fist up and down in time with his own strokes.

Oh man, it was happening. Doggett could feel his balls tightening.

The angle Skinner was pushing, was hitting what Doggett knew was his prostate, but what felt more like a bag of fireworks.

"Shit!" He was...

He was...

oh christ!

Skinner hit that little collection of pyrotechnic nerves once more, and the world exploded through Doggett's dick. It slammed his head back on the pillow, arched his back and his ass bit down on Skinner, hard enough to make him scream.

With eyes screwed up tightly, Doggett was vaguely aware that someone else in the room was screaming too, but he really didn't give a shit.

chapter 14.

There was a truck lying on his chest.

A big, hairy, damp truck.

Doggett opened his eyes and looked down. A bald head rested on his shoulder. Two arms splayed out either side of him, effectively pinning him to the bed.

He really hoped Skinner hadn't expired, because he was in no fit state to try and heave the man off.

He would have to stay where he was, until the FBI sent someone to find out why he wasn't in at work. That would be a fuckin' X-File.

'FBI corpses found in passionate embrace'.

Yeah, he was F.B.I., alright.

Fucked, Buggered and Immobile.

Doggett held on to Skinner's upper arms and pushed.

"I sure hope you're not dead, Skinner..." He whispered, shaking the arms. "Cause if you are, I'm gonna track you down in hell, and kick your fat ass."

The corpse grunted and stirred.

A moment later his head lifted from Doggett's shoulder and peered at him.

"I'm still here, shithead," Skinner muttered, rubbing his face on Doggett's chest.

Doggett looked down as the retrousse nose scratched itself over his sternum.

"Oh, that's lovely. Thank you very much."

Skinner grinned up at him. "My pleasure." Heaving himself up onto his hands, they both groaned as their skin peeled apart.

Reaching down between Doggett's legs, Skinner grasped his rapidly softening cock.

"Brace yourself," he said, and pulled out.

Doggett grimaced. "God!"

That was... Well, that was frankly unpleasant. Certainly not the highlight of the evening. It felt like he'd shit himself.

"That was fun," he said, pulling a face.

Skinner laughed softly, sitting back on his heels and rolling off the condom.

"Yeah, well. Life can't always be romantic, I'm afraid." He scooted himself to the edge of the bed, and then turning, pointed at Doggett. "Stay!"

"Very funny!" Doggett called after him, as the other man laughed, rubbing his stiff legs all the way to the bathroom.

He grinned , despite himself. It wasn't like he felt he could move, anyway.

He sighed contentedly, moving his hand out of the wet patch on his belly.

"Here." A warm, wet cloth plopped onto his stomach.

Doggett reached for it, opening his eyes.

"You not gonna do it for me?"

"What'd your last slave die of?" Skinner complained, taking the cloth anyway, and running it over the wet bit.

"Sex-induced coronary." He jumped, over-sensitive when Skinner wiped his dick. "Easy there, pal!"

"You bitch a lot, don't you, Doggett?"

"Only around you."

"I'm flattered," Skinner replied, running the now cool cloth between Doggett's cheeks, then throwing it on the floor.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"Who told ya to throw that, there?"

"Post-coital privilege," Skinner told him, flopping himself down on the bed, pulling the duvet up after him. He grabbed the pillow from under Doggett, and shoved it behind his head.

After a moment, he stretched then curled his legs.

Doggett sighed. He shifted over on to his side as Skinner wriggled around some more.

He rolled his eyes as a hairy leg forced its way between his, pulling him up closer.

The duvet was re-arranged.

"Comfy?" Doggett asked sarcastically.

"Nearly." Skinner fussed with the pillow a bit more and pulled Doggett's arm on top of him.

"There we go. That's better."

"I'm so glad."

"That sarcasm, John Doggett?"

"Might be."

"Lowest form of wit,"

Doggett reached his hand and poked Skinner's belly. "You asked for it."

Skinner batted his hands away.

"I didn't ask you to pinch my tits, when I was about to make love to you, though." he grouched, good naturedly.

"Yeah? Well, I didn't ask you to pull on my fuckin' ears, when I gave you a b.j.!"

"I couldn't help myself!" Skinner grinned.

"And that would be because...?"

The other man laughed.

"Because?" Doggett prompted.

"Well... They're so..." Laughing helplessly, Skinner made grabbing motions with his hands.

"Yeah?"

"Well... you know." Dropping his hands down, Skinner sighed. "They're so cute, you touchy asshole."

Doggett looked at him, appalled. "Cute??"

Skinner shrugged, grinning. "Yeah. Cute."

"I told you yesterday. I don't do 'cute'."

"Oh yes, you do, John Doggett," Skinner told him.

"Oh no I don't," Doggett argued.

"Do too."

"I fuckin' don't!"

Skinner howled with laughter. "Oh god, you big baby!"

"Am not."

"Okay... How about big girl?"

Doggett scowled. "Quit callin' me names, Skinner. And I think I'm entitled to complain about your shitty behaviour every once in a while."

"Every five minutes, more like."

"Yeah well, what d'you expect when you call me shit like that?"

Skinner laughed. "Anything else, Mr.Grumpy?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is."

"Oh, do tell."

"You didn't even look at me once, at supper."

A raspberry blew noisily against Doggett's neck.

"Now you really do sound like a drama queen."

"Hang on, a minute, pal. You called me a bitch yesterday, and now you're callin' me a big girl, a baby and a queen?" He pulled Skinner's ear. "I oughtta kick your ass."

"You could try."

"Don't tempt me, fat boy."

"Hey!"

"You started it!"

"Like hell!"

"Yeah?" Doggett rapped his knuckles on Skinner's forehead. "The name 'Piglet' ring any bells in that shiny head?"

Warm breath chuffed across Doggett's throat.

"Term of endearment."

"Yeah? So's 'Fuck you.'"

Skinner gave a rich laugh and rubbed his hand up Doggett's arm.

"Tell you what..." he said, dropping a kiss on a freckled shoulder. "You let me know when you feel brave enough, and I'll happily show you how."

Doggett looked at him blankly.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Fucking me."

He hadn't thought himself capable of blushing any more, but here it came, dashing up to make his ears glow.

"Jesus, Walter!" he grumbled.

"What?"

"Don't mince your words, will you?"

"Nope."

Doggett rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, asshole, you are."

Skinner shook his head, closing his eyes and squirming his head into the pillow.

"Nope. I'm something else."

"Oh yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"What's that then?"

"Here, as long as you want me."

Oh my god.

Doggett stared at the face on his pillow.

Holy shit.

This moment has been brought to you by The Letter F, for... let's see. Fondle...

fellatio, and fantastic.

His mouth was hanging open, he just knew it. Skinner opened his brown eyes and they lay and stared at each other.

"This is the moment when you're supposed to something nice, John."

"I..." He was trying desperately to think of anything, let alone something 'nice'. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, I think anything would be good, right now."

"I mean... It's not that I'm not happy..." He reached up and stroked Skinner lightly on his cheek. "And flattered. I'm just... Well stunned, I suppose."

Skinner nodded. "Yeah? Don't see why I should be the only one."

Shit.

Doggett blinked.

Swallowing, he wondered if he was doing irreparable damage to the relationship, by not being able to reply.

The last two days and rest of his life seemed jammed in his throat.

Letter F, for fright.

"I... That's great." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'd like that. I really would," he assured the other man.

Skinner looked at him.

"Good," he said, and closed his eyes.

Doggett stared. "As easy as that?" he asked.

"Easy as that," Skinner told him. "Now go to sleep."

"I'm supposed to sleep after you say things like that?"

"Yep."

"Well I won't."

"You're bitching again, aren't you, Doggett?"

"What if I am?"

Skinner chuffed out a chuckle into Doggett's neck, bringing his body out in goosebumps. He glanced up, and tucking the covers around the other man a bit more tightly.

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"So, go to sleep."

"What if I can't?"

"Lie there and listen to me snore, then."

Giving a small laugh, Doggett kissed the top of Skinner's shiny head. "You're a freak, you know that, Walter Skinner?"

"Yeah. But I'm your freak, John Doggett."

Doggett grinned into the dark.

Yeah, looked like he was.

fini

  
Archived: September 26, 2001 


End file.
